


And All That Could Have Been

by Aiobhlin



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Fix-It, it starts with canon and then rapidly careens off course, shipperific, somewhat of a slow burn, way less sex than I want tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiobhlin/pseuds/Aiobhlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wolverine meets his mate, but Logan needs a little more encouragement. AU with a little more Rogan Shipping and a lot less Jean Grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter work in progress. At first I tried to update it once a week, but then I ran out of chapters and now I update it whenever I can. Comments and feedback are always welcome, especially if something doesn't feel quite right to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A girl walks into a bar....

He smelled the innocence as soon as it walked into the bar.

It stood out over all the olfactory noise: the unwashed bodies of the men and women present, the stale beer and piss, the blood and the blood lust. The scent was distinct, and the Wolverine took notice. It was a girl; she smelled young as well as innocent. She needed a bath. She was hungry and scared, but also determined. There was something else, too, something that called to the Wolverine.

And she was coming closer.

Logan forced himself to not move his body in any way that could possibly acknowledge her presence. The Wolverine was close to the surface; cage fighting was for him, after all. He kept a long but firm leash on the animal inside him, needing to make sure that the claws didn’t come out, that the fights were believable for a normal human, and now to keep him from rushing over to explore that innocent smell and claim it. There would be time for that later. He still hadn’t secured this fight. He took another shot.

The surge of excitement in the crowd, both in sound and smell, redirected the Wolverine’s attention back to the inside of the cage. A new fighter had walked in, overconfident and drunk. As the bell rang, he realized that his mate’s scent was right next to the cage. The thought shocked him so much that his opponent got the drop on him, and he let himself take the beating. _My mate? What the fuck. I don’t even know what she looks like._ He instinctively curled around the kicks as his body was pushed closer to her, and her scent kept him almost paralyzed as he struggled to keep the Wolverine in check, to keep him from slashing through the cage and pulling her to him. He’d never reacted like this to anyone before. _What the ever-loving fuck._

He was brought back to the fight when the guy kicked him in the nuts. Wolverine was furious, and now wanted to both defend himself and eliminate the possible threat to his mate. Logan stood up and ended it quickly, using the weight of his metal skeleton to put the guy down. The girl’s scent was now…excited? Curious? He went back to the corner and took a shot as he realized what he was smelling. _Turned on? Christ._ He still didn’t look at her. The Wolverine, unsatisfied at how brief and unchallenging the fight was, wanted to rush over and claim her in front of everyone. It was all Logan could do to keep him under control. He could handle individual fights, and wasn’t even concerned if the whole bar came for him, but he felt protective of this girl, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to explore it. She was the last thing he needed. He could barely control the Wolverine as it was, and to have that girl’s scent around him was maddening. _My mate. Need to protect her, need to claim her._ He lit a cigar and breathed the smoke in deeply, trying to obscure the scent. His other hand gripped onto the cage in front of him.

He stayed that way as the crowd dispersed, focusing on the girl’s scent. When she started to move away, he finally allowed himself to look at her back. He saw a green hooded coat obscuring a slight frame, and a large duffel on her back. _So she’s running from something. Or to something._ He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she went to the bar and ordered a water. Her voice was soft and timid, and the crowd was loud, but he had been focusing on hearing it and had to fight a new surge of energy from the Wolverine, who again wanted to run and claim her. He didn’t move until the owner came and got him.

“I’ve got your winnings, son.” The man smelled afraid, but pleased. Logan wasn’t the only one who had won that night. He grunted and stood up, following the owner to the back of the bar to collect his money and his clothes. _Maybe if I take my time she’ll be gone by the time I come out._ The Wolverine growled and pulled against his chain, but Logan had regained complete control. He didn’t look at the bar—or the girl—as he walked out of the cage.

An hour later he had money and clothes. Some cage bunny had come on to him and he had let her suck him off in the bathroom. Wolverine had been angry, fighting because the smell of the woman in front of him was not the smell of the girl in the bar. It hadn’t been satisfying by any degree, but it had taken the edge off. Logan hoped that girl was gone, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself if she was still there. Wolverine wanted to track her no matter where she went. Logan knew that it was a terrible idea. The last thing he needed was to be chained to some girl while on the fighting circuit. With the way she smelled, she wouldn’t be able to handle herself, and he couldn’t fight if he was worried about someone. Besides, her innocence would probably pull all the assholes out of the woodwork. He didn’t want to fight if he wasn’t getting paid for it.

Jesus Christ, what was he thinking? He didn’t even know what her face looked like. But Wolverine had recognized something in her scent, and damned if the animal didn’t want it. Fuck.

When he went back into the bar’s main room, not only was she still there, but she was one of the only ones. She still smelled hungry, and he wondered when she had eaten last. _Not my problem._ Her face was still obscured by the hood as she sat at the bar with a water in front of her. He heard the bartender speak to her derisively as he moved the tip jar, and figured she was broke as well as hungry. Her scent changed slightly, and he smelled a hint of loss. _Not my fucking problem._ He ordered a beer and she looked at him.

Her eyes were huge and brown and filled with things that Logan didn’t want to recognize. He quickly looked away. The Wolverine started thrashing against the bindings; *he* had recognized the things in the girl’s eyes, and he wanted her. Christ. He looked up at the bartender and ordered a beer, but his gaze kept sliding over to her no matter how many times he looked away. He looked her up and down. She was way too skinny. And young. Too young to smell so good. A growl started in his head and he carefully tamped it down. The lack of a crowd only made it more dangerous for her. Less distraction. He didn’t know if the danger came from others or just from him, but he knew she was in danger. The stink of her innocence was still in the air. _Mother fucker._

He wasn’t surprised when one of the assholes from the ring came up to him. This didn’t happen at every fight, but enough that he was used to it. Usually he was able to send them away with a hint of the Wolverine, but he was too afraid to unleash that right now; afraid that if he did, even a little, it would end with him taking the girl on top of the table. So he kept it under control and hoped that the guy’s friend could get him out of there before anything escalated.

He heard the snick of the knife just as her voice cried “Look out!” The Wolverine surfaced as he subdued the man, and the sudden thought of what her voice would sound like crying his name surfaced. He took a deep breath, and her innocence assaulted him again, so instead of killing the man with his claws, he simply extended one just to the skin, to make a point. Then there was a gun to his head, and his other hand had the claws out, and suddenly he wanted to kill every man in the room. Her scent was in the air again. Innocent and frightened and something that made the Wolverine howl. His gaze slammed into hers and they stared at each other. He wanted to kill them all and then take her hard against the wall.

 _What a fucking stupid idea, Logan. Get the fuck out of here and get away from her._ The Wolverine hated that idea, but Logan forced him into submission, retracting his claws and grabbing his cigar before stalking out of the bar.

He got in the cab of his truck and looked at his knuckles. They were always a little sore after a fight. The tissue healed, but the nerves still felt pain. The Wolverine was howling and fighting to be released, to go back into the bar and grab the girl and throw her face down and fuck her until everyone knew who she belonged to. Logan thought of her huge doe eyes and the way she smelled so innocent. She deserved better than him. His hands had too much blood on them to be worthy of touching her. He put the truck in gear and pulled away into the pre-dawn dark, determined to put as many miles between him and the girl as he could.

He drove lost in his thoughts for a while, thinking about fighting and the girl and the past he couldn’t remember. His first memory was fifteen years ago, when he had found himself standing outside of this truck in the middle of the woods, naked, covered in blood, with his claws out. The only clue to his identity had been the tag around his neck that said Wolverine. When he’d hit the first town, someone had asked for his name, and he’d told them it was Logan, and that was it. It had just felt right.

A thump in the back of his truck brought him out of his reverie. He pulled to the side of the road and got out of the truck. Before he could walk back, however, that scent assaulted him again. _Fuck_. Cautiously, he made his way to the back of the truck, sniffing around before he noticed the green lump in the trailer.

 _It’s her._ The Wolverine howled in triumph. Logan tried to screw his head on straight, and hesitated before poking the lump. It was worse when he lifted the blanket off of her. Her warm innocence overwhelmed him. _Fuck. I have to get her away from me._

“What the hell’re you doin?” It wasn’t really a question.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her sweet southern drawl lighting his blood on fire and making the Wolverine crash against his cage. “I needed a ride and I thought you could help me.”

 _It’s not help I want to give you, kid. Shit._ He grabbed her bag and tossed it out of the trailer. “Get out.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” Anger and fear had crept into her scent, but she was hiding both well.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, refusing to think about the look of her legs under that coat. _Too young!_

“Don’t know or don’t care?” She sassed him. Nobody sassed him. He was annoyed with her, for smelling so good, for stowing away on his trailer, and for sassing him.

“Pick one!” he growled at her. She seemed completely unfazed by him, which only made the Wolverine struggle for control more. He stalked back to the cab and was getting in when she called after him.

“I saved your life!” she said.

“No you didn’t!” he called back at her. He put the truck in gear and started driving.

 _Does she really think she saved my life?_ Nobody ever wanted to save his life. In the fifteen years that he could remember, all anyone had wanted out of him was money, fighting, or sex. Nobody had ever wanted more, especially not after they saw the claws come out. He looked at his side mirror and saw her just standing in the road, watching him drive away. _Shit._ He pulled over and put the truck in park, and worked on getting the beast fully under control before she got into the cab.

“You got anything to eat?” she asked, once they were on the road again. Man, was she brazen. The Wolverine growled in approval of her spirit, but the man just reached over and pulled a small pack of beef jerky out of the glove compartment and tossed it in her lap. He glanced over at her as she tore into the package and started shoving it into her mouth, making small noises that stirred his blood.

“I’m Rogue,” she said simply. She didn’t hold her hand out to him, probably because he was driving. He didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything, didn’t think he could keep himself under control if their eyes met again. The Wolverine was calmer than he had been in the bar, probably because she was so close to him and so far from anyone else, but that desire to fuck the innocence out of her and claim her as his own was still near the surface, and he wasn’t sure how long he would last if they made eye contact. She wasn’t deterred by his lack of response, however, and looked around the truck with unabashed curiosity.

“Are you in the Army?” she asked. He raised an eyebrow but still didn’t look at her. “Doesn’t that mean you were in the Army?” she gestured to the tag he wore around his neck, and he slid it under his shirt, still remaining silent. She tried another tactic, glancing toward the back of the truck. “Do you live out of this truck?”

“Usually.” He grunted. Logan had always felt that something dangerous was following him, so for the last fifteen years he’d been traveling all over Canada, following the fights and sliding into the shadows. He lived off the grid, sleeping in motels occasionally to shower and watch a hockey game, always under a different name. But usually, he slept in the camper. _Can’t do that with her here._ The man in him wanted to get rid of her. The animal in him refused to consider it.

He risked a glance over at her then, and noticed her rubbing her hands together to warm them. She’d taken off her gloves to eat, and hadn’t put them back on again. Her skin was porcelain and flawless, but her fingertips were a little blue. He reached over and turned on the heater, then reached for her hand.

“Here, kid, put your hands in front of the heater.”

She jerked away from him like he had hit her. Her scent spiked with fear, and she instantly started putting her gloves back on.

“Look, I’m not going to hurt you!” He ruined the statement by growling. She just looked at him for a moment, pressed against the passenger door, then relaxed, adjusting her gloves.

“It’s nothing personal,” she said quietly. “Just when people touch my skin, bad things happen.” Her scent changed from fear to shame. He was suddenly angry that anyone would make her feel shame, and simultaneously overwhelmed with the desire to pull her close to him and keep her safe.

“Like what?” he asked quietly, still looking more at her than at the road.

“I don’t know,” she replied. She shook her head and ate another piece of jerky. “They just get hurt.”

He grunted. He knew about people getting hurt when they touched him. That’s why the only people he touched he was either fighting or fucking. He focused his attention back on the road but spared her a quick glance. “Fair enough.”

They drove in silence for a while. Her fear slowly subsided, but he could tell she was still alert. She’d stopped looking around the truck and was just looking out the window. Sadness crept into her scent, and he wanted to make it go away. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but the Wolverine was demanding that he protect this girl, and now that she had some kind of dangerous skin, he was less likely to touch her. He doubted that her skin could hurt him, but it kept her aware enough of him to keep the predator observant instead of offensive. He wracked his brain trying to think of a way to get her to stop being sad.

“Where are you going, kid?” He inwardly cringed. He’d never been good with words. However, the question had the desired effect. She still smelled sad, but now she was much more excited. Her face bloomed into a smile.

"Anchorage! I’ve wanted to go forever, and this just seemed like a good time.” She was practically bouncing in her seat. He wondered if she knew that she was unlikely to be able to get there from here before spring. Winter hadn’t started yet; the snows this far north could get really bad, and few vehicles were able to make the trip. He doubted that she’d be able to afford to fly, and besides, all the airports between here and the border of Alberta only had puddle jumpers. The only commercial buses didn’t go to Alaska until at least April, and she could also not afford that. His curiosity got the better of him.

“How you planning on getting there?”

“Same way I got here from Mississippi. I figure I’ll stay with you as long as I can, then I’ll find another ride.” She sounded confident, but her smell gave the lie. The trip from the south had been hard for her, and she was afraid. He admired her spirit, but she deserved the truth, and he was not one to lie.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but there won’t be a lot of traffic going that way until spring. You got a contingency plan?”

The surprise registered in her scent, and she immediately became afraid, but when he glanced over at her she looked determined.

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” she said in clipped tones. “And I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself.”

“That’s why you were hiding in my trailer? That’s what you call taking care of yourself?”

“It worked, didn’t it? I really appreciate you helping me out. I’ll move along at the next town. I feel bad for not asking first.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” He wanted to laugh, but he was too busy trying to think of a way to keep her from hitch-hiking with anyone else. He wasn’t a nice man, and he was one of the nicer ones he’d come across. The thought of her with some other asshole filled him with rage.

“Would you stop calling me kid?” she was offended, but the strength had come back to her voice.

“That depends, how old are you?”

“Nineteen.” He would have known it was a lie even if he couldn’t smell it. He snorted.

“I doubt it, kid.”

“You don’t have to believe me. Lord knows I don’t trust you,” she huffed, crossing her arms and looking away.

The words hurt him, but he supposed it made sense.

“Sure, kid.” He chuckled when he looked over and saw her glaring at him. That, of course, only made her glare more, so he went back to watching the road and let it drop.

“What kind of a name is Rogue, anyway?” he said, just to change the subject.

“I don’t know, what kind of a name is Wolverine?” Her sass was back. It annoyed him, but he also really admired her for her guts. Maybe she was more confident that her skin could protect her, maybe she was just stupid. He didn’t think she was stupid. Innocent, naïve, but not stupid. He decided to throw her a bone.

“My name’s Logan.”

“Marie,” she said quietly. He glanced over at her, and she was looking at him like she was his equal. Even the men in the cage didn’t look at him like that. He spared her a small smile, and she smiled back.

Silence descended back over the cab. It was warmer now, and she had stopped rubbing her hands together. He felt her anxiety ebb as she warmed up and the food raised her blood sugar. He was sure she needed to eat more. _The last thing I need is to be taking care of some child._ He knew he was going to sign up for it, though. The thought of her spreading her thighs for some other man, or freezing on the street, made his hackles rise. No, he’d rather have her near him, even if he couldn’t touch her. _She’s too fucking young, anyway._

They rode like that for almost an hour. He thought she might have fallen asleep. Her breathing was coming evenly and she smelled calmer. However, she turned to face him, leaning back against the door.

“Do they hurt, when they come out?” Her voice was soft and compassionate. It was the last thing he expected her to ask. Nobody had ever asked him that before. He thought about it for a moment before answering. Pain was part of his daily life. He had never thought specifically about his claws, though. Now that he did, however….

“Every time,” he said honestly. He didn’t look at her. She didn’t respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten some great encouragement about this chapter! I have a few chapters so far, so I'm going to post around once a week. Please let me know if you're interested in being a beta and we can work something out.
> 
> Up Next: Holding Pattern. Logan foots the bill for a motel, but it costs him more than money.


	2. Holding Pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan foots the bill for a motel, but it costs him more than money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the previous chapter! I really appreciate the feedback, it certainly jumpstarted my creativity! I'm publishing the next chapter a day earlier than I promised, because it's a holiday weekend and because I can. 
> 
> This chapter diverges from canon a little more, but we come back to it. As always, comments are welcome and appreciated!

By the time they reached the next town, Marie was asleep for real. He pulled into the parking lot of a small motel, and left it running while he went to see if they had vacancies. Normally he would stay in the camper. He had enough blankets and his healing factor kept him pretty warm. But there was nowhere in the camper for her to sleep, and he doubted that she had enough body fat to stay warm even with plenty of blankets. No, she needed a real bed. He could afford it. He stayed in places like this from time to time, anyway.

Logan came back to the truck after paying for the room, and shook Marie awake. She blinked up at him sleepily, and smiled. She smelled…content. And filthy.

“C’mon, kid. You need a shower.” He picked up his pack and her duffel and walked toward the room without seeing if she would follow. “Lock the door behind you!” he called over his shoulder.

The motel room was obviously cheap but surprisingly clean. There were still the smells of old sex and cigarettes, but the linens smelled like they had been washed, and there was no dust. He took the bed by the door and threw her duffel on the other one as she came in behind him. She walked over to the bed and just stared around for a moment, then removed her coats, leaving her gloves on. Her clothes underneath were modest, covering her skin, but they showcased her hips, her small waist, and her breasts. He had been right about her being too thin. Logan remained very still as he watched her, keeping his breath slow and even to keep the Wolverine in check. Marie didn’t notice. Her movements were careful, almost weary as she rifled through her duffel for clean clothes. He wondered when she had last slept in a bed. When she pulled out a little green lace panty Logan nearly lost control. He coughed to cover up the growl that he hadn’t been able to contain. The noise made Marie look up sharply. He made eye contact for a brief moment before he quickly looked away. They were in a room, alone, with beds. This had been a terrible idea.

“I’m going to go get food,” he said, refusing to look at her. “I’ll be back.” He turned and left quickly, slamming the door behind him.

His first stop was a bar, where he got himself a whiskey and asked around about whether there was a place to fight. The fights were never advertised; cage fighting was illegal. But if you said the right things to the right people, you could usually figure out where to go. Once he’d determined that, he stopped at a liquor store and picked up some cold beer, then grabbed a couple of burgers for himself and Marie and headed back to the motel. _God I hope she’s dressed. Because if she isn’t…._ He didn’t finish the thought, but he knew the Wolverine would be hard to contain if there was no barrier between him and her skin, and to hell with whatever she thought her mutation was.

When Logan got back to the room he stood outside the door for a moment, collecting himself. He took slow centering breaths. He didn’t remember learning how to meditate, but it was probably at the same time he learned origami and several martial arts. The knowledge had just been there when he needed it. Like now. He finally wrestled the Wolverine into the tightest binding he could think of, and opened the door. When he saw her, he froze.

He thought he was prepared.

He wasn’t.

The Wolverine howled and pulled against his bindings as Logan stood there and stared at Marie. She was dressed in a loose t-shirt and some yoga pants that hugged her hips and thighs like a second skin. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra from the way her breasts jiggled under the shirt as she brushed her hair and put it into a braid. Damn, she was beautiful. Both the animal and the man took a moment to appreciate the view.

The worst part was her scent. Under the light floral of the motel soap was the smell of her, woody, fresh, young, and innocent. The Wolverine liked the innocence the most, since it was clear that he would be the first to claim her. The only one to claim her. _No! She needs your protection, not your rutting libido!_ He wanted to take care of her, and she deserved better than that. She was so young.

She finished her hair and looked up at him. Her huge eyes searched his, and for a moment he was transfixed. Even the Wolverine was silent. Then he heard her stomach growl, and shook his head to clear it. She grabbed her elbow-length gloves and started pulling them on.

“I got you a burger. You’re too skinny.” He turned away and put the beer and the bag with the burgers on the small table in the room. Her immediate reaction was to smile and start toward the table, but she paused halfway there, and her scent became wary.

“I had the jerky in the truck,” she said slowly. “That should keep me for a while.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, and cracked open a beer. “Sit down and eat, kid.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” she huffed.

“I wish you’d shut up and eat already.” He took a long draught.

“Look,” she said, exasperated. “I don’t have a lot of money left and I’m saving it for transportation. I can pay you for the ride and the room, but I’ll find my own food.”

He slammed his hand on the table and stood up before he knew what he was doing.

“Like hell you will! Now sit down!” he shouted. She smelled like fear again, but it didn’t show on her face. Instead she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him like that, especially someone so afraid. The Wolverine wanted her again. Blood was pooling in his pelvis and he sat back down before she could see. He took out a burger, unwrapped it, and took a large bite. After he swallowed, he said, “The last thing I need is to hear, see, and smell is how hungry you are. Now eat the fucking burger.” He took another bite.

She didn’t move for a moment, but then her stomach growled again and she gave in and sat down to eat.

“I’ll pay you,” she said with her mouth full. He could smell her pleasure at the food. It wasn’t the best burger he’d ever had, but he knew how hunger made everything taste better.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and continued eating. When he finished the first beer, he opened the second. He was on the third when she was finally done with her food.

“There’s a fight tonight. While I’m gone, I don’t want you to open the door for anyone. I’ll be back late, so you don’t need to wait up, but I’ll have my key so if someone knocks, it’s not me. I want you to stay here in the room and get some sleep. We’ll be back on the road again by 11am. Got it, kid?” He lit a cigar.

“What if I want to come to the fight?” she said petulantly.

He glared at her. “No.”

“You’re not my boss, you know. I appreciate your help, but the fastest way to get rid of me would be to let me go find another ride.” She smelled annoyed.

“How long you been on the road kid?” he looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “This is NOT the town to be looking for another ride. I’ve already paid for the room, so you can sleep here tonight, but the worst place for you to be is near a cage match.”

“I don’t need your protection,” she hissed as she crossed her arms in front of her. She met his gaze and held it steady.

“I’m not patronizing you, kid. Just…take a break tonight, ok?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been traveling a long time, it’s draining.”

She seemed mollified by that, especially since she took that moment to yawn.

“Okay, but not because you’re telling me to. It’s been a while since I slept in a bed.” She demonstrated with another yawn.

“Alright, I’m going to go. I’m taking the bike. Remember, don’t open the door for anyone who knocks. And if shit hits the fan, here are the keys to the truck. Take it and start driving. I’ll find you.”

“How?”

“You think the claws are the only thing I got from my mutation? I told you I didn’t want to smell you hungry.” He smiled broadly, showing his teeth.

She just gaped at him. He stood up, tossed the keys to the truck on the table, and reached to ruffle her hair. She pushed her chair back immediately and backed away from him. Her scent had just spiked with fear again, bordering on terror. It was his turn to gape, and they just stared at each other for a moment. She was breathing heavily. The Wolverine took notice of the way her breasts were moving under that obscenely thin t-shirt. The man looked at the abject panic in the girl’s face and dropped his hand.

“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like to be touched.” He apologized. He was surprised at himself, he never apologized for anything. _Never seems to be a word without meaning today._

“No, I’m sorry,” she apologized, looking at the floor. “It’s just, you’re being so kind, I really don’t want to hurt you.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure I could take care of myself, darlin’. You’ve seen me in the cage.”

“I’d rather not test it, if it’s all the same to you.” She still smelled terrified, and wouldn’t look at him.

“You’re dead serious, aren’t you?” He was incredulous.

“Yeah,” she whispered, and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes.

“Okay, I get it. No touching.”

“Thanks.” She looked down, and shuffled her feet.

He didn’t say anything, just walked to the door. Before he left, he looked at her, and she looked back at him. Something was conveyed while they stared at each other for a drawn out moment, but he wasn’t sure he could name it. Then he looked away, quickly shut the door, and drove to the bar on his bike.

She was already asleep when he came back hours later, drunk, sore, and richer. He stripped quietly and collapsed into the bed. Dawn was in a few hours, and then it was back to the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: What Happens When It Snows--Logan and Marie spend their first night in the same room, and it doesn't end the way you want it to.


	3. What Happens When It Snows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Marie spend their first night in the same room, and it doesn't end the way you want it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know what Wolverine’s nightmare is, so I’m not going to go into detail with it. Lots of thanks to hurtslikeyourmouth for the beta, and for the encouragement that I'm going in the right direction.

Pain. Pain and torture. Water and metal and champagne, but mostly pain. Someone leaned over his face, laughing at him, and he broke free of his bonds and reached up and clawed the guy right in the chest.

“Logan!”

He opened his eyes, but instead of a sneering man getting his just desserts, Marie was standing next to his bed, his claws buried knuckle deep in her chest. Her eyes were shocked and he could tell she was in pain. He felt panic well up in his throat and immediately retracted his claws, only to watch blood bloom on her shirt. She started to fall backwards and he wrapped an arm around her, staring in her eyes, trying to keep her with him.

“No. NO! Marie! Help!” He yelled, but he wasn’t sure anyone could hear him. Fear clutched his chest. _Please just let this be part of the nightmare._ He felt blood on his arm; he could smell it. If it was a nightmare, it was pretty damn convincing. Her eyes started to glass over, and rolled back into her head. The stain of blood on her shirt was getting larger by the second.

“No, no, no, no, no. Marie!” His cries were quiet. He felt wetness on his face and realized he was crying. He pulled her close to him, unsure of what to do. “Marie, please!” He didn’t know what he was asking. He knew that he had killed her. He wrapped his hand around her hair and put his lips to her forehead, then started to sob. “Marie….” It was a keening cry, quiet, into her hair.

Then the pull started. He felt himself seeping into her through his contact with her face. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it felt very strange, and he was frozen to the spot. Then he felt her arms push against him, and he fell back onto the bed, and his world went black.

*~*~*~*

When he gained consciousness, the first thing he smelled was her blood. It was all over him. He sat up straight, taking stock of the room over the unfamiliar feeling of dizziness and a headache. _This is what it must be like to be hung over. Glad I don’t have to deal with that. Why am I feeling it now?_ The memories rushed to him—Marie’s face as she stood over him, his claws embedded in her chest. The blood pooling from the wounds after he retracted the claws. The feeling of her skin against his lips. The pull he felt as he poured himself into her. He looked around.

Her blood was on his chest and the sheets around him, but nowhere else. Both she and her pack were gone. _Where the fuck is she? Is she dead?_ He bolted out of the bed and looked out the window. Snow had started to fall, his truck and bike were still there, but there was no sign of Marie. _Did someone take her? I have to find her._ He didn’t bother to wash the blood off of his body, just changed his pants and threw on a new shirt, then put the “Do not disturb” sign on the doorknob as he rushed out into the cold. He could smell her moving away from the motel. Her scent trail was clear, full of panic, but there was something different about it. Bike, then.

She hadn’t gotten far. He found her about two miles past the tiny town, walking on the side of the road with her thumb sticking out. When he pulled up in front of her, he smelled fear spike within her, and this time it was evident on her face.

“Marie! Are you okay?” He reached for her, wanting to convince himself that she was really alive, but she jerked away from him, and that fear smell increased.

“Stay away from me!” she said, and started backing away.

“Marie, darlin’, please. I’m so sorry!” He was panicking again. He needed to keep her safe, now more than ever. The Wolverine was whining pitifully.

“Logan, it’s too dangerous!” Marie was crying.

“Look, it won’t happen again, we’ll get separate rooms, I don’t know, but I promise I’ll keep you safe.” He had left his bike on the side of the road and was walking after her. She turned around and faced him, her brown eyes blazing.

“And who will keep you safe, Wolverine? I thought I killed you back there. I thought…” she stumbled and fell. He reached out and grabbed her upper arm, but released her when she growled, loudly. “Don’t touch me!” she snarled.

They made eye contact then, both of them breathing hard. He just stared at her. Her face and eyes were fierce, and her stance was crouched, with her arms out at the ready, fists clenched with the knuckles pointing slightly outward. It looked familiar, and he realized that it was the way he stood when the claws came out, ready to fight anything that might come. _What the fuck._ He paced a few steps in confusion, and just looked at her. Her eyes followed him but she didn’t relax, and there was something wild in her eyes and her scent.

“Marie, what the fuck happened back there? What’s happened to you?” She blinked and stood up straight. The wild scent faded, replaced by fear and confusion. “Marie, talk to me. I’m not going to touch you, but I’m not afraid. Just tell me what the fuck is going on.” They still maintained eye contact, and then she sniffed. It was subtle, but he noticed it.

“You’re really not afraid.” The words were quiet.

“No.” Then, “How do you know?”

“You don’t smell afraid.”

“How…?” He was confused, and then he remembered that moment when she was dying in his arms, that pulling feeling like he was being poured into her. “Did you….absorb me?”

She nodded and started sobbing. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I pulled away as soon as I could but you were already unconscious and not breathing and I panicked and ran. I know about your healing factor now, I know you’ve died over and over and so this is no different. I’m glad you’re alive, Logan, but you have to stay away from me. I’m too dangerous. If I had waited any longer….” She was hugging herself. Snow had started settling on the road, and it was clinging to her coat. Her face was red from the cold and blotchy from her tears. He put one hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair.

“Marie, I stabbed you. I still have your blood on my body. You should be dead.”

She nodded, looked at his eyes for a moment, then looked away. She smelled ashamed. “I think I got some of your mutation, too.” The words were so quiet, he almost didn’t hear them. Another sob escaped her. “I didn’t even know it worked that way! I’m so sorry!” she cried softly. He just stared at her for a moment.

“I’m not.” His words were quiet and confident.

That shut her up. She stopped sobbing and looked up at him sharply. “Logan, I almost killed you.”

“I thought I killed you. But here we are, both alive.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step closer to her, noting with satisfaction that she didn’t back away. “I won’t be sorry about that.” She just stood there as he continued to step closer. “I don’t know what happened, but I know I want to figure it out with you.” He was right in front of her, their bodies so close they were almost touching. He looked at her eyes and they were pointing at his, but she looked like she was seeing something inside of herself. A long moment stretched between them before she spoke.

“The first—the only—boy I ever kissed ended up in a coma for three weeks.”

He grunted softly. _Where did this come from?_

“I can still feel him, inside my head. I know his daddy yelled at his mama, I know he cheated on his math test. I can feel what he was feeling right before he kissed me, and then, right after.” She shuddered, but maintained his gaze, her eyes flipping back and forth between his. “It’s the same with you.” She looked at his mouth, briefly, before looking back up to his eyes.

_Shit._ If that was true, she knew about the Wolverine, knew how he felt about her. Knew that he knew she was lying about her age. Knew that he was intoxicated by her scent. Knew that he was ambivalent about taking her with him but couldn’t help himself. He searched her face, looking for her disgust, but didn’t find it. Instead, desire had crept into her scent.  _Fuck. What am I doing?_ She suddenly looked much older than the fifteen or so years he figured she had on her. Her fear was entirely gone.  _Fuck it. If she has me inside her head and isn’t afraid…._

“Okay,” he said, and met her gaze steadily. They stayed like that for a moment, and then he felt the air leave his lungs as she threw her arms around his waist and hugged her face against his chest. The Wolverine purred in contentment. _Yes, this is right._ Logan put an arm around her shoulders and a hand on the top of her hood. He held her for long minutes, enjoying the feel of her body against his, thankful for the movement of her lungs. The hand on her head slid down to rest against her back, and he covered her head with his chin, instead. “Come with me, Marie. I’ll take care of you.”

“You promise?” she pulled away from him and looked in his eyes again. He met her gaze without flinching.

“I promise.” Again, they just stared, their arms still around each other.

“Okay,” she breathed. Suddenly he was looking at her mouth. Her breath fluttered across his chin, and his body responded, hot and hard. Her pupils were dilated, almost black. He put her away from him a bit.

“Marie…” he began, but whatever he had been about to say was torn from him by the huge mutant that crashed into him. He went flying and landed in a snow bank on the other side of the road. He saw the mutant grab at Marie, who was punching him in the ribs with zero effect. The guy was tall, taller than Logan, with thick shaggy matted hair and black eyes. Logan sniffed. The guy was feral, unwashed. He smelled like a bear. Maybe that’s why Logan hadn’t noticed his scent approaching them. _Maybe I was just distracted._ He stood up and started back toward them. Marie had pushed the guy away and was starting to run. Logan extended his claws and was about to stab the man-bear in the neck when the mutant reached up and knocked his arm out of the way, then punched him in the face with the other hand, sending him flying again. _I’ve never fought a guy like this._ He reached within himself and loosened the bindings on the Wolverine. Then he smiled, and lunged at the feral, knocking him back several feet.

Logan lost track of Marie as he fought the mutant, trying to get his claws into him. They were nearly evenly matched, and the Wolverine gloried in the fight, thirsty to feel the mutant’s blood on his teeth. Suddenly, a bolt of red energy pushed the feral away from him, and the Wolverine turned in the direction the bolt had come from to see a man and a woman dressed in black. The woman called, “get out of the way!” as another red blast flew by, close to him, and pushed the other mutant further across the road. Logan struggled to regain control over the Wolverine as a wind grew around them, and he watched as the feral was lifted and flew into the trees. Then he heard the sound of a snowmobile, and he looked around to find Marie. She wasn’t there. He sniffed the air, trying to find where she went, and discovered two parallel unbroken tracks leading into the woods in the same direction that the feral had just flown in, almost as if someone had been dragged. He walked closer to investigate, and found that her scent followed the tracks, into the woods.

He didn’t hesitate, just ran into the woods after the scent. He found where the snowmobile had been parked, and picked up the scent of Marie, the feral and another mutant as he followed the track. About a mile later he heard the sound of a helicopter. _No, please, no._ He entered a clearing just in time to see the helicopter take off, throwing snow around in a whirlwind. He stood there, watching it. _No. Marie!_ For the second time in less than 24 hours, he felt helpless.

He smelled and heard the two mutants in black just before they entered the clearing behind him. The helicopter was a small, retreating dot in the sky.

“Can you hit it, Cyclops?” the woman asked the man. She smelled like ozone.

“No, it’s too far. Lightning?”

“I can’t. The distance is too great.” She put her hand on Logan’s arm. It was a measure of his, and the Wolverine’s, shock and grief that he didn’t pull away. “What’s your name?”

Logan didn’t look at her. “You can call me Wolverine.” She had helped him against the mutant, but he still didn’t trust her.

“Do you know what they wanted you for?” the man asked. Logan took a look at him and instantly disliked him. He smelled like arrogance. There was some sort of visor covering his eyes. _I hate when I can’t meet a man’s eyes. What are you hiding from, bub?_ Logan looked back to where the helicopter had been.

“I don’t think they wanted me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading! Your comments and kudos have really helped me through the week. My beta loved the twist at the end, so I hope you do, too. Let me know if there's anything that didn't work for you, or what you want to see next. 
> 
> Up Next: Carrying a Torch. The X-Men have figured out why Magneto wanted Marie, and now they have to keep it from happening.


	4. Carrying a Torch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men have figured out why Magneto wanted Marie, and now they have to keep it from happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between the last chapter and this one, everything in X1 that I haven't described or explained away yet has happened. There is the briefest appearance of Jean but it's over quickly. 
> 
> Trigger warning: there is a very, VERY brief mention of self harming behaviors. No descriptions or anything, literally just two sentences. However, if this is a thing that gets you, I don't want you to be caught off guard.

**Three** **days later.**

Logan struggled against the metal bonds holding him against the inside of Lady Liberty’s head. He could hear Marie’s screams above him. _I have to get to her._ The Wolverine was close to the surface, snarling frantically, trying to get to his mate. Logan felt helpless, again. He wasn’t sure how he could save her. Then, an idea from the Wolverine surfaced. Logan took a deep breath, and gave the animal control.

The pain burned sharply as his claws ripped through his chest, giving him the leverage he needed to push against the metal strapping him to the wall. _This is what it felt like for her. This is why I owe her so much._ When he fell to the floor, he only took as much time as he needed to for the healing before he slashed out at Sabretooth. Marie’s screams had stopped. Logan didn’t want to think about what that might mean.

The fight lasted too long. Sabretooth was bigger and stronger, but not really very smart. However, it took longer than he wanted to subdue him, and he had to enlist Scott’s help to do it. _Fucker._

Moments later, he was flying in the air, landing on the platform next to Marie. There was a new white streak in her hair. Her face was screwed up in pain, and her mouth was open as if she was screaming, but no sound was coming out. _Mother fucker._ He went to break the chains holding her hands to the machine, but an unseen force held his hand back. _How the hell did that fucker manage to stay conscious, if he gave Marie his power?_ He noticed that Magneto was barely upright, leaning heavily on the railing. _Serves him right._ He still couldn’t move, though. Magneto was talking but Logan couldn’t hear him over the roar of the machine. A different force started moving his left hand. At first he tried to fight it, but then Jean’s voice whispered in his head, and he realized what was happening and tried to move with it. He roared as the rings beat against his claws. A few agonizing seconds went by, and then there was a red flash, and Magneto dropped along with the force pushing against him. Logan was able to shove his hand closer to the rings and disrupt them enough to fall apart. Then Jean’s force left, too, and he collapsed.

He didn’t take too long to catch his breath, however. He looked up to see Marie slumped in a heap, her hands still attached to the machine. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Her scent was clouded with the metallic scent of Magneto. _I’m going to kill him._ The Wolverine roared. Before he could kill Magneto, he needed to get to his mate.

He jumped up on the platform and gathered Marie into his arms, searching her face. “C’mon….” he murmured. She was breathing very shallowly, and he willed her eyes to open. When her breathing started to slow, he ripped off his glove and reached for her face, hoping that her mutation would pull his healing from him again. He braced himself for the pull, but long seconds went by and it didn’t come. He listened closely for her heartbeat, but it was faint. Tears came to his eyes.

“No….” the Wolverine was howling in his head, a keen of sorrow. Logan was quiet, tears streaming down his face, as he cradled her cheek in his palm. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Marie. I should have been faster.” He kissed her lips, hoping that she would return it, knowing she wouldn’t, and then he collapsed into sobs, clutching her face to his.

His eyes shot open when he felt the pull start. _Yes. Take it, please. I can’t imagine a world without you._ His skin started to rip open. He could feel the blood trickling down his body as all the wounds he should have had from the fight opened up at once. He welcomed the pain. It was nothing less than he deserved. Even the Wolverine was quiet, lying still to save his mate.

Then, for the last time, his world went black.

*~*~*~*~*

A sterile smell and a light touch on his abdomen woke him.

“That tickles,” he said. He opened his eyes to find Jean looking down at him. She smiled. He smiled back.

“Welcome back,” she said, affection and heat in her eyes.

“Thanks,” he said. “How’s Rogue?” He didn’t know if Marie would want them to know her name.

“She’s well. She adopted some of your more charming personality traits for a few days, but we powered through it. I think she’s quite taken with you.” Jean’s tone of voice said she thought it was cute. Logan figured she hadn’t been able to see into either of their minds to learn the truth. And as grateful as he was for their assistance, he didn’t trust the X-men enough to let them know how deep his feelings for the girl went.

“You can tell her my heart belongs to someone else.” The Wolverine growled, but didn’t struggle. They both knew that the deception was necessary, for now. He’d flirted with Jean the first time because she was a beautiful woman and he was a flirt. Once he learned that she was Scott’s girlfriend, he flirted harder, just to see Scott get his panties in a twist. The behavior had a secondary benefit of keeping anyone at the mansion from thinking his urge to rescue Rogue was anything more than the general desire to protect another mutant.

As soon as Jean gave him the okay to leave the med bay, he went looking for Marie. He found her sitting in a living room, talking to a boy about her age. His hackles rose as a wave of jealousy hit him like a ton of bricks. His first instinct was to slice the kid from nuts to neck, and Logan closed his eyes and breathed slowly while he put the Wolverine back where he belonged. Thankfully, Marie’s scent grew closer, and he opened his eyes to see the boy glaring at him, but Marie’s beaming face was near to his, her scent filled with happiness. He couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Hey,” she said. She smelled a little nervous.

“Hey,” he said back. He didn’t know what to say. He reached out and flicked a finger through the white streak in her hair, raising an eyebrow at her. _Damn, I could stare in her eyes forever._

“I kinda like it,” she said softly. Her gaze slipped down to his mouth, and she swallowed.

“Let’s go talk, kid.” He jerked his head toward the door, indicating that they needed to be somewhere private. She reached out a gloved hand to him, and he took it. The scent of anger and jealousy wafted toward him from the couch, making him chuckle.

“What?” she said as they walked into the hallway. He led her toward the stairs.

“Your boyfriend is jealous,” he said, looking at her with laughter in his eyes. She rolled hers in response, and he was pleased with the annoyance that crept into her smell. He breathed it in deeply.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, practically growling. He chuckled louder and moved her hand to the inside of his elbow.

“I know,” he said. “But he thinks he is.” She punched him on the arm.

“Whatever. He’s a child.” There was a weariness in her tone, and Logan was suddenly reminded of how she said he was in her head. He wondered how much of Magneto was in there now. His smile fell.

They reached the top of the stairs and Logan stayed silent until they reached the room he’d been staying in. He led her in and shut the door, flicking the lock closed behind him. Instantly, he felt her hands around his waist, her breasts pressed into his back. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered into his shirt. “It’s been almost a week. I was terrified that this time you wouldn’t be able to recover.”

He turned in her arms and pushed her head into his abdomen, careful not to touch her skin. “I thought I had lost you. It didn’t work right away, and I thought…”

“I know what you thought. I have it all in my head.” She shuddered.

He took a deep breath and decided to voice his fear. “And Magneto?”

“He’s in there too,” she said quietly. “But the professor has been helping me get him under control. Look,” she said, reaching a hand out. His tag lifted about an inch off of his chest and hovered there, then fell back against his shirt. “I think I kept your mutation, too. I don’t heal as fast as you, but I cut my arm yesterday, just to test it, and I don’t even have a scratch today.”

Logan growled. “I don’t want you cutting yourself, to test a mutation or for any other reason.” He was terrified of her getting hurt. He knew some girls cut themselves when they were depressed, and he didn’t like thinking of Marie being one of those girls. He took a deep breath of her scent again, and didn’t notice any sadness. _Hopefully it was just a test._ “I’m serious, Marie.” She lifted her head and looked at him.

“The professor can’t read my mind,” she said after a moment. “He can’t read yours, either, not really.” She paused. “He gets some surface stuff but he can’t get very deep before the Wolverine stops him.” The sudden change in topic startled him.

“How do you know?” He searched her eyes for the answer. She smiled at him.

“He told me. Oh, not directly, but he told me that he couldn’t go in my head and do the work for me, I had to do it myself. Then, about two days ago, I heard him tell Jean he couldn’t help you wake up. You wouldn’t let him in. The Wolverine in my head told me why.” She seemed smug. “So our secret is safe.”

“What secret?” he asked, but he knew that she knew.

“Don’t even pretend, sugar. You’re in my head with everything you feel about me.” She gave his waist a squeeze. “I feel the same way.” Her smile was shy but full of promise. He felt something clench within him.

“Oh, Marie,” he said. His arms tightened around her, even though he knew he should be pulling away. “If you know all of that, then you know that you’re too young for us to do this. Besides, how would we...”

“Oh, you’ve already thought of that, too.” She snickered. “But not here.” She was serious again.  “I like these people, but there are too many of them.”

He chuckled. She really did have a lot of him in her head. He thought really hard about what he was going to say next.

“When we were trying to figure out how to save you from Magneto,” he began slowly, “the professor told me that he could help me find out some things about my past. I’d like to stay for at least long enough to get some answers. I don’t know how he’ll do it if he can’t read my mind.”

She sighed. “He has other ways of getting information.” She pulled away and went to sit on the bed. “We can stay for a while, if you want. I could work on controlling my skin.” She met his gaze, and her eyes were dilated again. He could smell her arousal. “I had it for a moment, with Magneto. I can get it again. I think the you in here,” she tapped her head, “is helping me.”

“So we’re stayin’?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the door. It was that or rush over and pin her to the bed. That look of hers had made all the blood rush straight to his dick.

“Yeah. At least for the winter. I’m pretty sure we can’t get to the cabin now with the snow.” His head snapped up. “Oh, please. You’ve got to get used to me knowing things.”

“Exactly how much do you know?” He was terrified, and if she had as much of his mutation as he thought, she’d be able to smell it. Her face fell from the seductive smile into solemnity.

“Most of it I haven’t looked at.” She shrugged. “Anything you don’t remember, I don’t remember. The stuff about me I know without thinking about, almost like it’s from myself. Everything else I’ve boxed away.”

He shuddered and looked away from her. If she knew some of the things he’d done…

“Hey, sugar,” she said, getting up from the bed. She walked over to him and put her gloved hand on his arm. “Those barriers were already up, I didn’t have to do anything, really. And it’s helped me so much. Knowing how you put those away has helped me compartmentalize Magneto.”

“And that’s it? You’re just you?” She was keeping something from him, he could smell it. She didn’t answer him, just slid her arms around his waist and pushed her face against his shirt. He felt her take a deep breath through her nose, capturing his scent. After a moment, he relented and put his arms around her, kissing the top of her head through her hair. “When you’re ready to tell me, I’m here.”

“I know,” she said, and she sounded so sad his heart broke. He squeezed her tighter. _I love you, kid._ The thought came unbidden, but he didn’t chase it away.

He didn’t say it out loud, either  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now Logan has admitted how he feels, even if it’s only to himself. Now I want to know how YOU all feel about this entire story being from his perspective so far. I don't know why I write so often from the male perspective but so far it's seemed to work for the story. If you want to hear Marie's voice, though, please let me know.
> 
> Up Next: Pattern Recognition. Logan and Marie are coping with living in a fishbowl while Logan explores his past and Marie tries to control her skin. She has an idea for how she might accomplish it, but Logan hates it.


	5. Pattern Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Marie are coping with living in a fishbowl while Logan explores his past and Marie tries to control her skin. She has an idea for how she might accomplish it, but Logan hates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're diverging entirely from canon. Because everything that happened after this sucked. Don't worry, Marie will still get the tag.

Two weeks later, Logan met Marie in the kitchen for their daily coffee ritual. They had both become more comfortable at the mansion, but the only time they saw each other outside of coffee was when a hockey game was on. He had continued to flirt with Jean, as much to keep anyone from suspecting the breadth of his feelings for Marie as to piss off Scott. Pissing off Scott was his new favorite past-time, now that fighting and fucking were off the menu. Marie, however, had maintained strict boundaries with all of her classmates. She used her skin as an excuse, but they both knew why she really kept her distance. Neither of them had shared their real names with anyone else.

The mansion was all but snowed in at this point. Logan had been training the X-men in hand-to-hand combat, and had been meeting with the professor to look over mutant experimentation records. Logan shared details from the memories he had access to, and even talked the Wolverine into letting the professor do some limited mind reading, but he made sure that his feelings for Marie were locked tight beforehand.

Marie had been working with Storm on meditation, and with the Professor on compartmentalization. She’d been able to channel more of Magneto’s power, and she had Logan’s enhanced senses. She wasn’t sure if she still had his healing, but the Wolverine wasn’t about to let her find out.

“Accidents happen, kid,” he had said to her on the morning that she suggested it. “But I can’t take it if anyone hurts you on purpose, even you.”

She had huffed and stalked off, and didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day.

This morning, however, the sky was bright and sunny, and the snowfall was smooth. They had gotten a foot the night before, and the younger children hadn’t had a chance to disrupt it yet. He found Marie sitting near a window, coffee in hand, with her feet up on the chair that he was about to sit down and take. Underneath the scent that made her Marie—hints of hickory, rosemary and vanilla—she smelled a little melancholy. She didn’t look away from the window, but he knew that she had noticed when he walked into the room. He got his coffee and went to join her.

“Hey, kid,” he said, putting his hand on the back of the chair. She didn’t look at him, but she sat up and took her feet off of his chair.

“Hey,” she said quietly. They both looked out at the snow, drinking their coffee in silence. When he was about halfway through his, he looked over at her.

“So, what’re you thinkin’ about?” He said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Patterns,” she replied simply. He grunted, which would normally encourage her to go on, but she remained silent. He decided to prompt her.

“What kind of patterns?”

Another sigh escaped her. It made her breasts move enticingly under her shirt. One advantage of this place: Marie had good food to eat. She had filled out well since they arrived. He was no longer terrified that she would pass out from starvation.

“Mutation patterns,” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure out the difference between Erik’s mutation, which he controls consciously, and yours and my mutations, which seem to be always-on.” She looked at him, capturing his gaze. He always felt like he was drowning in her eyes, and he let her hold him there. “I really want to be able to touch you, Logan.” The words were so quiet he doubted that anyone else would be able to hear them. Still, he gave an experimental sniff to make sure they were still alone. They were.

“I wanna touch you, too, darlin’.” His voice was as quiet as hers. She nodded imperceptibly, and looked out the window again, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I’ve been thinking of touching the professor.” The words were matter-of-fact, casual, as if she was discussing buying a new scarf. He choked on his drink.

“You what?” he spluttered. Coffee spilled on his hand. It was still hot, and it burned him a little. He focused on the pain, brief though it was. Her words had made Wolverine sit up and take notice. Neither of them were happy with the idea of anyone—let alone another man—touching their mate.

“Just listen for a moment, okay?” she said. Sometimes she sounded her age. Only sometimes, though. It was all the old men in her head. _And now she wants to add another one._ He growled. She looked at him, and her eyes were pleading. “Please,” she said quietly. He took a few deep breaths and got the Wolverine under control, then nodded.

“The professor has been telling me how he manifested, trying to help me get control. It used to be that he just heard everyone’s mind, all the time. It was like that for years. Slowly, though, he learned to control it, and now he can turn it off and on when he wants. He can shut out the noise, or open himself up to it. He can even just listen to one person at a time.” She took a sip of coffee. “I want to know how he shuts it out. He can’t really explain it to me, but I think if I absorb him, just a little….”

“You’ll be able to figure out how he does it.” Logan hated the idea, but he had to agree that it had merit. She nodded.

“Think about what we can do once I get this under control, Logan.” Her eyes were hot and he could smell her arousal. His own arousal was stirring as he thought about kissing her and touching those beautiful breasts. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear the thought.

“Marie,” he whispered. “You’re still too young.” Her anger spiked immediately.

“Bullshit,” she said sharply. “In some ways, I’m older than you,” she spit out. “The old men in my head helped with that.”

“And you think adding another one is gonna change my mind?” His voice was louder than he meant for it to be, but he didn’t care. “You said that you had a moment of control, in the torch. Can’t you focus on that?"

She gulped down the rest of her coffee and stood up.

“It’s hard when I got no way to _practice,_ sugar.” Her words were bitter, and he cringed in spite of himself. _God this woman’s got me in knots. I never cringe._

“Marie,” he started quietly, but she was already walking away. “Rogue!” he called louder, but she kept walking.

_Well, fuck. How am I going to fix this?_

*~*~*~*~*

He spent the rest of the day in the Danger Room, fighting out his aggression. He hadn’t been back in the cage since Liberty Island, mostly because in the Danger Room he could let his claws out. The feeling was a little too easy, a little artificial, but the sheer volume of opponents more than made up for it. It was late in the evening when he finally dragged himself up to his room, physically exhausted but still agitated over his conversation with Marie. He kept thinking about what she said about practice. _I wonder if she’d be willing to practice on me._ He really didn’t want to see the professor looking back at him out of her eyes.

He took his time in the shower that night, allowing his fantasies of Marie to surface while he stroked himself. Their conversation this morning had made him think about touching her, and he hadn’t been able to get the thoughts out of his head. He remembered that brief kiss, when he thought she was dying, and how soft her lips had been beneath his. He wondered if her hands were as soft as they looked, under the gloves. Her breasts were probably still firm, and he wanted to feel them on his face, and taste her nipples. He wanted to taste her everywhere, and bury his face in her essence until her thighs were shaking around his ears and her core clenched around his tongue.

His hand moved faster as he imagined what his name would sound like on her lips as she fractured in ecstasy around his fingers. He gave himself a squeeze while picturing himself slowly entering into her, inch by blessed inch, until he was sheathed inside her tight sweetness. He knew he would be the first, and both the animal and the man found that incredibly arousing.

It was the thought of her plump red lips around the base of his cock that finally had him coming against the shower wall, his hips thrusting against an invisible partner, his dick twitching in his hand. He grunted and growled in an attempt to keep quiet. He was not known for being a silent lover, but he didn’t want anyone to get any ideas about what he was doing, or who he was thinking of. There were at least two telepaths in the building, and while he had been told that he was harder to read, probably because of his mental control over the Wolverine, he didn’t want to take any chances.

He stroked himself softly as his erection subsided, leaning against the stall with one arm as he caught his breath. Sex with himself while thinking about Marie was explosive. Sex with her, when they were ready, was going to be nuclear. He brought his hand to his lips and tasted himself, trying to imagine what she would taste like mixed with him. He wanted to smell them together in his beard afterward, a silent, secret reminder of their coupling. He stood there for a few moments longer before grabbing the soap and finishing his shower. Then he wrapped himself in a towel and walked into his bedroom.

He didn’t smell her at first because she was wrapped in his shirt. When he recognized her, though, he was instantly aroused. He wanted to run his hands up her legs, to smell her skin with his scent overlaying it. All the thoughts he’d had while masturbating came back in a heady rush, and he wondered how much he had thought explicitly about fucking her before he pulled her life from her and she took it back. He hoped it wasn’t too much. There were some things that needed to stay private.

“Marie, what the fuck are you doing here?” he growled. His hands gripped at the towel around his waist. He was rapidly losing control. He consciously focused on his breathing, working to keep it slow and even. Through his mouth. He could taste her scent. _Well that didn’t help. Fuck._

At first she just stared at him with her mouth slightly open. Her eyes scrolled up and down his body and lingered at the towel before settling back on his face. She swallowed.

“I’m sorry!” she said, looking away. “I shouldn’t have come here.” She stood up and turned toward the door. The flush on her cheeks wasn’t helping his desire. Hers was broadcasting in her scent, but underneath was shame and embarrassment. That sobered him up. She was still a little girl in so many ways.

“No, it’s okay, just give me a minute,” he said quietly. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants out of a drawer and moved to walk back in the bathroom. “Please, stay. I’ll be right out.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were almost black with how dilated her pupils were. _Fuck._ Her scent fed his arousal, and he realized that she could smell his need as well as he could smell hers, because the shame and embarrassment were rapidly being replaced with the smell of her sex. _Jesus Christ, she’s going to kill me slowly._ Still, he didn’t want her to leave, not without knowing why she came. After a moment that felt longer than it really was, he looked away and took a breath.

“Sit,” he said, more roughly than he intended. Keeping the Wolverine chained up was taking a lot of effort. However, she sat, and he could feel her eyes on him as he went back into the bathroom and put on the sweats.

When he came back out, she was curled back up in the chair, hugging herself. She was still wearing his shirt, but he decided to let her. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to take it back with her scent all over it. Instead, he went to his dresser and pulled out a t-shirt. He didn’t look at her before he spoke.

“Why did you come?” he asked gruffly. She wasn’t looking at him.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that this morning. It’s just this is so frustrating….” She smelled sad. He hated when she was sad, and the urge to go to her and wrap her in his arms until she wasn’t sad anymore was very strong. The Wolverine, of course, had other ideas about how to make her feel better, so he stayed on his side of the room.

“S’ok, kid,” he muttered. “I get it, I just don’t like it.” _That’s the understatement of the year._ “If you think that absorbing some of the professor is gonna help you, you should do it. I’m not in charge of you.” The words ripped a hole in his heart that was more painful than his claws, but he said them anyway. She deserved a normal life.

“Logan,” she whispered, and the Wolverine growled with need as he recognized the tone of her voice. “We agreed to stay together. You’ve saved my life—twice. I’m okay with giving you a little say in what I do with it.” Her scent told him exactly what she wanted him to do with it. He tried to ignore it. “There’s a reason I told you before I did it.”

“Yeah?” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was concentrating too much on keeping his hands to himself.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Winter’s barely started. It’s going to be weeks before we can go anywhere. I can wait, see if I can try anything else.”

“You could practice on me,” he said, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them. Her eyes got huge as she looked at him, and suddenly the air between them was charged with their desire to consummate this strange and forbidden relationship. It was a testament to his strength—and hers—that they both stayed on opposite sides of the room. Of course, recognizing that strength in her only made the Wolverine want her more. “Not tonight, though.” He had to put some distance between them before he lost control of the animal completely.

“And how are we going to pull that off, sugar? Because we both know what will happen if we do this in private.” She was teasing him. Teasing! He loved her sass.

“Lemme think about it,” he smirked, looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

She smiled at him, warm and open. He could still smell her sex, but it was overwhelmed with a warm scent that he couldn’t quite place. She stood up.

“Are we good, sugar?” she asked. She was looking right into his eyes, and the message she was sending him had nothing to do with sex. He was in awe. He realized that his mouth was open and he closed it with a little shake of his head.

“Yeah, we’re good,” he murmured.

“See you in the morning?”

“Yeah.”

Her smile broadened and she walked toward the door, but then she paused and looked back at him. “I should give this back to you,” she said, starting to take off his shirt. He took a step forward and reached out a hand before he was able to stop himself.

“No, keep it,” he said. The look on her face was worth it. “Why’d you put it on anyway?” he was suddenly curious. To his surprise, she blushed and looked away.

“It feels like a hug,” she replied, almost too quiet for him to hear. She looked back up at him and blinked. “Thanks for letting me keep it.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” she said with a small giggle.

“Sure, kid,” he replied with a smile of his own. “Go to bed.”

She gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir!” she said, and smiled at him one more time before turning and leaving, closing the door behind her.

Logan groaned and flopped down on his bed. It was going to be a long winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! It’s still way too early for that. We’ll get there, though, I promise. I didn’t mean for this to be a slow burn, but I guess it will be. 
> 
> I want to give [lachlanrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lachlanrose/pseuds/lachlanrose) a shoutout for the idea that Logan and Marie have coffee together every morning, and also for the idea of wrapping Marie up in one of Logan’s shirts, both of which are featured in her story [Bittersweet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/819694), which is one of my favorites. Go read it. Then read everything else she’s written, it’s amazing. 
> 
> UP NEXT: Mind and Body. Logan has a different idea about how to help Marie control her mutation.


	6. Mind and Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan shows Marie his idea for controlling her mutation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Sorry this is late. I've been working on the next chapter and I didn't want to post this one before the next one was finished. It's still not finished, but it's moving right along. You can't wait for what's going to happen next. 
> 
> Thanks to [lanalucy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy) and [hurtslikeyourmouth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hurtslikeyourmouth/pseuds/Hurtslikeyourmouth) for the beta!

Logan stood outside Marie’s room at 0500 the next day. He’d slept fitfully, images of Marie in his shirt, her soft voice saying she wanted to touch him, the smell of her still in his room keeping him from being able to find peace. An hour ago he had given up, and decided to meditate for a while before he went to the gym as usual. It was during meditation that he decided to bring Marie along.

He hesitated only a second before knocking. She’d been given a room to herself, which was unusual for teenagers, but Xavier had thought that perhaps it would be better if the girl with deadly skin didn’t have roommates. It was a small room, though, little more than a closet, just big enough for a bed and a dresser.

“Come in,” came the sleepy voice. He entered her room almost silently, closing the door behind him.

Marie’s scent was everywhere, overwhelming. He had to take a moment to tame the Wolverine before he crouched next to her head.

“Get up,” he said, his voice more even than he felt. Now that he was next to her bed he suddenly smelled the faintest hint of his own scent. He looked at her pillow and saw the cuff of his flannel peeking out from under it. He swallowed. He needed to get out of here. “We’re going to the gym.”

She blinked at him sleepily. He tried not to look at the way her hair was spread on the pillow, or how full her lips looked, or the bare skin of her arm on the top of the sheet. _Of course she doesn’t wear gloves to bed, idiot. That’s the whole point of her having her own room._ He really needed to leave. “Meet me in the hall in five minutes. Wear clothes you can move in.” Her eyes were more awake now, and they bored into him, as if trying to figure out what this was all about. He met her gaze, and after a moment, she made a decision.

“I have to pee and brush my teeth. I’ll meet you in ten.” She made her point by sitting up, but she didn’t move the blankets. He wondered what she was wearing to sleep, and decided that now was not the time to find out. He quickly looked away.

“Fine. Ten minutes.” And he stalked out. Ten minutes was hopefully enough time to get his libido under control.

She met him downstairs in eight minutes, wearing a tight fitting long-sleeved t-shirt and yoga pants. She wasn’t wearing gloves, which surprised him, but then he saw her throw down a pair with her towel and water bottle. She walked toward where he was standing on the wrestling mat, putting her hair up into a ponytail as she went. Absently, he wondered why she hadn’t cut it since they had met, and whether it was because she knew he liked it long. He blinked to clear the thought.

“So, sugar, what did you drag me out of bed at oh-my-god in the morning for?” She sounded annoyed, but she smelled amused.

“I’m up every day at this time. You know that. We’re going to do some Tai Chi.” He moved his bare feet to a stance just wider than shoulder width and assumed the first pose. “Do you know the moves or do you need me to show you?”

She stood there and stared at him for a moment, her expression an enigma. Then she kicked her sneakers off in the direction of her towel, and stood in a mirror of his position. “I’m sure you’ll tell me if I forget something,” she said. Her voice was a mixture of challenge and affection.

Logan set the pace, and they moved through the poses slowly, his eyes watching her shoulders, hips, and wrists to check her form. Yeah. Her form. She was pretty good, but not as good as he was. Absorbed memory couldn’t substitute for actual physical training. Finally, he broke his pose to correct her posture.

“Here, darlin’, like this,” he said softly, using his hands on her shoulder and forearm to position it correctly. She didn’t jerk away from him like she did with other people. The thought made something tighten in his chest. He moved behind her and put his hands on her wrists over her shirt, and moved with her through to the next pose. Her heart was beating faster. So was his. He slid his hands from her wrists to her shoulders as she moved again, and then down to her waist. He was impressed that she continued to work through the forms. His own focus was shattered.

He stepped back to watch her and was surprised at the look of concentration on her face. She even smelled focused. He moved his body in mirror of hers, but his mind wasn’t in it. He was thinking about how warm she had felt under his hands, and how soft her waist was. When they finished, she folded to the floor before he did, and he startled when he remembered that she was doing this from his memory, and this was how he always did Tai Chi. Her eyes closed, and she took a deep centering breath, and then he felt the peace emanating from her. He took a breath and tried to do the same, but all he could smell was her.

Time passed. He didn’t know how long, but as he breathed in and out, slowly, he reveled in the smell of her, and found a way to meditate just on her scent. She had never smelled like this with him, so calm and balanced. All the emotions that usually hung around her were gone. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips were parted, and she was breathing in an almost circular pattern, the next breath starting immediately after the first one ended, each one measured and slow and perfect.

She was beautiful.

As he watched her, he remembered why he had thought to do this. Very carefully, he unfolded his legs and leaned closer to her, his face inches away from hers.

“Marie,” he said softly. Her eyes opened, two deep pools of chocolate that he just wanted to lose himself in forever. He had planned on just touching her cheek, but when he looked at her he changed his mind. He waited one breath, but she was still calm, still centered. Perfect. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

They were just as he remembered from the torch, soft and pliant, but this time, he felt her move against him, felt her kiss him back. He pulled away and looked at her. She opened her eyes again, and they stared at each other for a moment, but then she leaned back into him and kissed him again. When she ran her tongue along his bottom lip he opened his mouth for her, and he brought his hands up to her shoulders. She held his arms as they tasted each other, and when she pulled to deepen the kiss, he let her.

Of course, that’s when he started to feel a tingle, and suddenly she was pushing him away and scrambling across the room like a crab.

“I…I’m sorry!” she cried. She smelled terrified again, and Logan cursed himself for not anticipating that this would happen. He couldn’t regret the kiss, though. He ran a thumb along his lower lip and smiled slowly at her.

“I’m not,” he said softly. “Marie, that was amazing.” He could still taste her.

“Logan…” she began, and then she got angry. “What the fuck were you thinking? I could have killed you!” She moved back over to him and hit him in the shoulder. Logan chuffed. She needed strength training.

“Yeah, but you didn’t,” he said calmly. He looked at her. “That was at least a minute, Marie.” She just stared at him. The anger faded from her scent as she sat back on her heels. “You were focused, and calm, and your skin was off.” He reached up and stroked a stray lock of white hair behind her ear, letting the tip of his finger gently touch her cheek for the briefest moment before pulling his hand away. “You had control.”

“For a minute,” she argued, but her voice was quiet and there was no heat in it.

“I think we should do this every day,” he said.

“What, the Tai Chi or the kissing?” she arched an eyebrow at him. He chuckled. He loved when she sassed him.

“Why not both?” he asked, looking from her mouth back up to her eyes. They just stared at each other. He thought about kissing her again, but decided against it. Even if she was able to control her skin for longer than a minute, he didn't want to take her on the floor of the gym. He’d already resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to wait for her to add more numbers to her age before he claimed her; the Wolverine wasn't known for his patience. But the man knew that she needed to be taken gently, and wanted to give her the romance. He couldn't remember another woman that he had been so careful with. Maybe it was because she was still a girl.

“Do you really want to do this here?” she asked. He knew what she meant.

“I think it has just as much a chance of workin’ as you touchin’ the professor,” he grunted. “And it will keep me from killing him.”

She started. “You feel that strongly about it?”

“I don’t, but the Wolverine does,” he said, looking straight into her eyes and letting the animal shine through in his gaze. “I know you’ve been working on meditation with ‘Ro, and that’s great, but it’s your body that has the mutation, and I figure you can’t control it with just your mind.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “And it worked, for a moment. It’s a long winter, baby.”

Marie pulled her feet out from under her and crossed her legs again. They sat there, just looking at each other, for several minutes. He liked that they didn’t always have to talk. Then he heard her stomach growl.

“C’mon, kid, let’s get you some food.” He stood up and went to where he had left his sneakers. “I want to come back here in the afternoon, you’re weak as fuck.” He heard her offended intake of breath and chuckled. “I want to help you get to a point that when you hit me, I actually feel it.” He looked at her then, and let his desire show in his eyes.

Whatever she had been able to say died on her lips as she froze under his gaze. He smelled her scent start to change from outrage to desire, and let himself smile. He loved having that power over her. He picked up her towel and threw it at her. It hit her in the face and she glared at him.

“We’re gonna work on your reflexes, too.” He turned to leave.

“What makes you think I want to do any of this?” She called at his back. It stopped him. _What if she doesn’t?_ The thought hadn’t really occurred to him. She was his mate, of course she would. He turned and walked over to her, standing above her and forcing her to tilt her head to look at his face. He looked at her eyes, and took a deep breath through his nose. She smelled annoyed, but mostly just turned on. He smiled slowly.

“Because, _darlin’_ , the cabin is in the middle of nowhere, and you need to be strong to live there.” Her eyes got wide. “Which is also why you have to fuckin’ eat. Now c’mon.” He turned and walked away. She gave an exasperated huff, but he heard her following him. He chuckled. This had been a great idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Promises, Promises. Xavier has something to say about the time that Wolverine has been spending with Rogue.


	7. Promises, Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People have noticed all the time that Wolverine and Rogue have been spending together, and Xavier has something to say about it.

They continued that way through the holidays and into the New Year. Tai Chi in the morning before coffee, classes during the day, then some strength training in the afternoon. If anyone noticed that they were spending more time together, they didn’t say anything. Sometimes their morning sessions ended in kisses, but often they would just touch each other gently, holding hands and stroking faces. Her control was lasting longer and longer. Not long enough, certainly, and she wasn’t able to turn it off without the exercise, but it was an improvement.

Logan was headed down to the gym one afternoon to meet Marie when the professor’s voice sounded in his head. {Wolverine, can I see you for a moment?}

He growled. The professor couldn’t read his mind, but projection didn’t seem to be a problem. He redirected his steps to the professor’s office.

“Wolverine, thank you for coming. I have a task I think you are perfectly suited for.” Xavier maneuvered his chair around his desk to meet Logan in the middle of the room.

“I never agreed to run errands,” Logan said. “I’ll train your people, but I won’t fetch and carry for you.”

“Of course, it is your choice,” the professor said calmly. “However, there is a young mutant in Canada that I would like to bring to the mansion. His name is Michael. He’s a feral, like you, and he’s very afraid and alone. I think it would be helpful if you went along with the team.”

“Chuck, I’m really not the right guy to go picking up kids.”

“Actually, Wolverine, I think you’re the perfect choice. The others have been doing this so long, they practically have a script. I believe that sometimes this makes it hard for young people to trust us. You have no such script.” The professor’s voice was calm, confident.

“You mean I don’t feed them any bullshit,” Logan snorted.

“Precisely,” the professor replied, smiling. Logan wanted to hit him.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not good with kids, bub. Pick someone else.”

“You’ve done well with Rogue,” Xavier said carefully.

“Didn’t have a choice with her, she jumped into my truck.” Logan smiled a little at the memory of how feisty she was. _Still is, if I’m honest with myself._

“I mean after Liberty Island,” the professor said quietly. Both of them sobered at the reminder.

“She needs to control her mutation to feel safe,” Logan said. He thought about what Marie had said about absorbing the professor and he felt a wave of anger toward the man, and fought it down. “I figured this was the best place for her to do it.”

“And it’s the best place for Michael, too. He just needs you to tell him that, just like you told Rogue.”

“I didn’t make Rogue stay, she made the choice on her own.”

“Of course, but she only stayed because she trusted you and your advice,” the professor said. His voice was still calm, but it was earnest. “You’re still the only person she really trusts.”

Logan’s head snapped up at that. “What’re you talking about?”

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been spending more time with her. She’s been making progress with her control, and I think that whatever you are doing with her is helping,” said Xavier. “No matter how much the rest of us work with her, she still never relaxes. Except with you.”

“You don’t know that,” Logan snapped. “She told me you can’t read her mind.” The professor leaned back in his wheelchair at that statement, a look of triumph on his face.

“That’s exactly what I am saying, Wolverine. She has never told me anything, only asked questions. I know nothing about her except what has happened while she has been with us, and what you’ve told me.”

Logan was silent for a moment. He hadn’t counted on Marie becoming so suspicious of the others. Xavier took advantage of his silence and pressed.

“You’ll be good for Michael the same way you’re good for Rogue. She’ll still be here when you get back.” The look on Logan’s face must have conveyed his reluctance, because Xavier continued, “And there is something near Michael’s location that I think you may be interested in.”

The Wolverine was listening. “Yeah?”

“Michael just appeared out of nowhere near an old military base at Alkali Lake. It seems to be abandoned, unless one looks at the heat signatures below the dam. I think there may be answers you seek there.”

Logan thought about it. Wasn’t this one of the reasons he had decided to stay? However, he didn’t like the idea of leaving Marie for any length of time, especially now that they were getting so close to a breakthrough. He turned to go.

“I’ve asked Scott to have the Blackbird ready to go tomorrow morning. You can join them in the hangar,” Xavier called after him. Logan was annoyed that the professor thought his participation was a foregone conclusion, but the truth was he was already mostly convinced.

Now just to tell Marie.

*~*~*~*~*

That evening there was a hockey game on, and they were watching it in one of the living rooms. They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but Marie’s feet had found their way into his lap after the last student left to go to bed. Logan started rubbing them absentmindedly as he thought about how to tell Marie that he was leaving.

“Penny for your thoughts, sugar,” she said, breaking into his reverie.

“What?” he said. He looked at her and his hands froze on her feet. She snorted.

“You were lost in thought, there. You didn’t even notice when there was a fight.” Her eyes were laughing at him, and he glared at her. She leaned forward and smacked his hand were it rested on her ankle. Her gloves were crimson silk today. “What’s on your mind?”

He sighed and looked away. If he looked at her face for too long he’d lose all his resolve. His hands resumed their ministrations on her feet as he tried to find the words.

“The professor’s asked me to go help recruit a young feral mutant in Canada. I think I’m gonna go,” he said quietly.

Her head lifted from where it had been resting on the arm of the couch. “How long?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” he said slowly. “There’s something else that might take some extra time.” He took a deep breath. “There’s a base there…the kid might have come from it. Chuck thinks it may have some answers for me.”

She sucked in air through her teeth. “What do you think?” Her voice was carefully even.  Logan looked at her then, trying to will her to see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I think it’s worth investigatin’.”

“And if you find another lead? Will you chase that, too?” Her tone was still careful, but fear was in her scent.

“I’m coming back, Marie,” he said with more than a little resentment.

“Are you sure? You haven’t stayed in one place for this long in as long as you can remember.” She sounded a little angry, but there was no anger in her scent, just fear and sadness. He just looked at her, unable to say anything. They both knew her words were true.

They held each other’s gaze, neither of them speaking. The sounds of the hockey game on the television seemed far away. He wracked his brain trying to think of how to convince her that he would return. Inspiration struck, and he reached to his neck and pulled his tag off. Her eyes grew wide as he held it out to her.

“Logan…”she said softly. They both knew how much that tag meant to him. He grabbed her hand and gently but firmly placed the tag in her palm, wrapping her fingers around it.

“I used to think that nothing in the world was more important than me figuring out where this came from,” he said. His eyes never left hers, but she was looking at his hands, still wrapped around hers. “Look at me.”

She did.

“I am coming back, Marie. There is no way I would stay away from the two most important things in my life.” He held her gaze as he waited for that to sink in. “I promised I would take care of you, and I will. I think you’ll be safe here.”

“I should come with you,” she said. Her feet swung off of his lap and tucked underneath her as she moved her body closer to him, but she didn’t let him release her hand. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” She was being totally honest, but he wasn’t sure she knew why she thought it was a bad idea.

“One month, Marie,” he said. “Gimme one month. If I don’t have any answers by then, I’ll come back.” He squeezed the hand that was holding his tag. “I promise.”

She didn’t respond, just looked at him, searching for an answer in his eyes to a question she couldn’t even name. He let her, drinking up the sight of her, trying to imprint it on his memory. A month wasn’t a long time, but it was longer than they had been apart since they met in that shitty bar in Laughlin City. The Wolverine wasn’t happy about leaving his mate, but Logan knew that if he didn’t go and investigate this, he would always be wondering what was there, and he’d rather have even a partial answer than no answer at all. And he did believe she would be safe at the mansion. He’d gone over the security systems himself.

He was running through all the different protocols in his head, thinking about which ones may need to be updated before he left in the morning, and he must have looked away, because when Marie’s lips touched his, he was definitely surprised.  There was no pull, no buzz, nothing but the sweet taste of her and the gentle touch of her tongue against his lip. It was the first time they had kissed outside of their morning workout routine. She pulled away and he looked at her.

“Baby,” he began, but she shushed him.

“When are you leaving?” she asked quietly, her lips barely an inch away from his. He could feel her warm breath on his chin.

“Xavier wants the team to leave in the morning,” he answered just as quietly. She sat back, pulled her hand out of his grip and slipped the tag over her head. It glittered in the light from the television, resting on top of the scarf she wore around her neck. He wished he could see it against her skin. The Wolverine approved of her wearing his mark, even if it was removable. He took a deep breath and reassured himself with his scent overlaid with hers. He’d have to leave her another shirt.

“Well,” she said, inching closer to him. “I guess we’d better not waste any time, then.” She leaned forward and kissed him again, moving her lips slowly against his, daring him to take what she owed him. The Wolverine roared that she needed to be claimed right then, right there, on the couch in this public living room. Logan put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away slightly.

“You sure, kid?” They both knew what he was talking about.

“Are you?” she replied, fire in her eyes. He chuffed a little and smiled at her sass.

“As sure as I’ll ever be,” he said, flicking off the TV with the remote. “C’mon, kid.” He stood up and pulled her toward the stairs. “Not here.”

As he led her toward his room, he realized that there was no heat of the moment here. Maybe in the living room he would have had plausible deniability, but in his room there was no escape from what they were about to do. She was 15, maybe 16; she never had told him the truth and he hadn’t ever asked her again. The Wolverine didn’t care about her age. She belonged to him, and before he left, he was going to make sure his claim was irrefutable.

As he shut the door behind them, she went to kiss him again, but he took her hands and held them between their bodies, looking into her eyes somberly.

“Marie, this is your last chance. I can’t…I can’t promise what will happen if we start.” It was a costly admission to make, but she just smiled and shook her head at him, her eyes locked to his.

“Logan, there is nothing we can do right now that I haven’t already thought of.” His eyebrow raised at that, and she smiled. “We live in the 21st century, sugar. I have the Wolverine whispering in my head and the internet. Trust me.”

Logan was still skeptical. “Marie, baby, you’re a kid. A little girl. I should have walked up here alone, but the animal in me is hungry for you.” He allowed the wolverine to shine through his eyes, and Marie’s eyes widened in return. “There is some fucked up shit that he could pull, and I can’t promise that he won’t.” _Please, understand._

Marie just looked at him for a minute, drinking in the sight of his face until she was satisfied with what she found. Then her eyes lit up with a glint that he was familiar with, the light that she was going to start causing some mischief, and she took his hands and placed them around her waist, taking a step forward until their bodies were pressed together, and slid her hands up to his shoulders. His brain was telling him that he needed to get her out, now, but his hands refused to move. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really want them to. The Wolverine was snarling in satisfaction.

“Logan, sugar,” she said slowly, and her hands slid up to cradle the nape of his neck, her thumbs tracing silken fire along his jawline. “Shut up and kiss me already.” With that, she stretched her neck up and tilted her head back slightly, a sign of submission clear enough for the Wolverine, and Logan was lost in the scent and feel of her beneath his hands. He groaned as he lowered his mouth to hers, and her taste overwhelmed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I was writing and writing, and I had to break it here or the chapter was going to be like 6000 words long. Don't worry, there is payout. Trust me.
> 
> UP NEXT: Crossing the Line. Heh.


	8. Crossing the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Marie run past the point of no return and don't look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for leaving you all hanging for so long. There is really no excuse. Here it is, the long-awaited smut. Hopefully I've self-beta-ed out all the bad grammar and spelling mistakes.

She was still wearing gloves, so the only place their skin was touching was where their lips met. Every once in a while he would feel a tingle, and pull back, but those times weren’t very often. _I guess her mind and body are in sync._ He trailed rough kisses down her jaw, using his teeth to pull her scarf away from her neck because his hands were busy running up and down her spine. Her little moan as he bit at the hollow of her throat sent heat directly to his groin, and he could feel his erection straining against his jeans. He pressed it against her belly as she fisted her hand in his hair and arched her neck to give him better access.

 _Skin. I need to feel her skin._ His hands pulled at her shirt until it was free from her jeans, and he didn’t even wait to get the shirt off, just slid under the hem and pressed his palms against her back. She gave another light little moan, barely more than a grunt, and she moved forward into his body.

“Careful,” she whispered, but she took her hands from his face and removed her scarf, letting it fall to the floor, and exposing the cleavage in the low-cut shirt that the scarf had been hiding. His tag fell against her skin with a barely audible smack, and it nestled between her breasts. The sight made him growl quietly in the back of his throat, before bending down and claiming one with his mouth. One hand moved under the shirt to push it against his teeth and tongue as he bit her, just until she gasped, then licked the mark he had left. She leaned back into the hand that was still on her back, and he used it to pull her closer to him. Her skin tasted amazing under his tongue. He was dying to taste more of her.

He tugged on her shirt until she got the hint and took a step back so he could pull it off. His shirt followed hers onto the floor. He reached for her, but she shook her head, and watched his face as she slowly removed her bra by herself. She smiled and straightened her back when he couldn’t look away from her breasts as they came into view, high and tight with youth. She reached one hand off to the side and dropped the bra on the floor deliberately, then undid the clip holding her hair up and shook it out, tossing the clip to the side as well. The red opera-length silk gloves stayed on. The contrast against the pale skin of her biceps was incredibly erotic.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off of her. _She’s perfect._ The Wolverine was howling and salivating in anticipation of touching her and tasting her. She stepped back toward him and reached up to his shoulders, but instead of taking her into his arms, he cupped both of her breasts almost reverently. She stood straight and proud as he gently squeezed them, and made a little sound when he flicked his thumbs over her nipples. He bent down to take one in his mouth, and made his own sound as the taste and smell and feel of her overwhelmed his senses. Her hands roamed over his shoulders and arms as he ministered to her breasts with his mouth, and when he nipped at the nipple with his teeth she shook slightly and fisted a hand in his hair.

He was tired of bending over her slight frame, and he wanted to touch her more without worrying about whether she was going to fall, so he reached under her knees and picked her up, moving to the bed and climbing on it on his knees without ever taking his mouth off of her. Her little shriek of surprise only fed his erection, which was starting to become painful in his jeans. When he was stretched out next to her he moved back up to kiss her face, and her hand went to his zipper, almost as if she had read his mind.

He wasn’t in control of the growl he made when she rubbed her hand up and down the length of him through his pants, or the way he pushed his hips against her. He was still struggling to keep the animal at bay. _It’s her first time. She’s already tiny._ He knew he needed to go slow, but now that he was heartbeats away from possessing her he was having a harder and harder time restraining the Wolverine. The smell of her arousal wasn’t helping. _Mate. My mate. Need to mark her. Need to claim her._ Logan grabbed her wrist to still her hand as he took some deep breaths.

“You gotta stop that, baby, or this will be over sooner than we both want,” he said roughly. She squeezed her fingers around him and earned his grunt.

“I’ve never been known for patience, sugar,” she said back. Both of them were breathing hard. He groaned and lowered his head to her belly, shifting his pelvis out of her reach. He gnawed at her as he moved his way to her waistband, and she arched her hips to help him as he slowly undid her jeans and pulled them off along with her panties. Finally, she was blissfully naked before him, except for those gloves. Her hair was splayed against his bedspread, and he looked at her face as he knelt between her legs and slowly ran his hands up the inside of her thighs, resting them on her hips. _Damn, the smell of her is intoxicating._ She smelled better than she ever had, now that he could finally be this close to her. Her pupils were wide, and her skin was flushed, but the look on her face was filled with trust and something else he was afraid to name. He dug his thumbs lightly into the hollow where her thigh met her pelvis, and smiled at her sharp intake of breath. He wondered if she knew what he was going to do next, but didn’t hesitate before he dipped his head and lapped at her sex, one long lick from bottom to top, giving a little flick at her slit above her clitoris.

Her moan this time was long and loud, and she buried her hands in his hair. “Please,” she panted. “Please, Logan.” Her voice was breathy and eager, and he applied himself to her pleasure. He sucked on her labia, and swirled his tongue around her clit. His hands stayed on the inside of her thighs, and he enjoyed feeling her muscles clench and vibrate as he continued to taste her. She tasted better than she smelled, and he let himself enjoy her, driving his tongue into her the way he wanted to drive his cock into her later. She was so tight. He needed to help her loosen up more so it wouldn’t hurt. There was no stopping him, now.

He sucked and nibbled at her, liking the feeling of her pubic hair under his tongue as he savored her. The number on her ID notwithstanding, her body was clearly that of a woman. As her hips started to undulate he moved his thumbs closer to his mouth, and when he sucked on her clit he slowly pushed his thumb inside of her. She pulled at his hair and ground herself against his face as she shattered, calling his name and squeezing around his thumb. Her vagina became slicker as he started thrusting his thumb in and out of her slowly, giving her something to ride against while she came back to earth. He lifted his head and looked at her as her orgasm subsided. Her entire body was flushed now, and there was a fine sheen of sweat above her breasts. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily. _Beautiful. Perfect._ The Wolverine chimed in. _Mine._ She had never looked like this for anyone else, never made these sounds for anyone else’s ears. The knowledge made his cock swell and strain against his jeans.

When she went limp against the bed, he gently but reluctantly removed his hands from her, and rose from the bed to quickly divest himself of the rest of his clothes. He lay back down next to her, pressing his erection against her thigh while he put one hand on her hip and used the other to brush away her hair from her face. He kissed her forehead, he kissed her eyelids, he kissed her nose, and finally, he kissed her mouth. She responded lazily, opening her mouth and languidly rubbing her tongue against his. He tried to stay gentle with her, he really did, but before long his kiss had become more insistent, and he was pushing his mouth against her more firmly, using his teeth to bruise her lips as he claimed every surface of her mouth with his tongue. She met him there, her lips and tongue pushing against him just as much as he pushed against her.

The silk of her gloves rubbed against his chest, moving down slowly to his abdomen. He thrust his hips against her, the Wolverine telling his mate where he wanted to be touched. Logan’s hand clenched on her hip when she pushed at his shoulder a little to tear her mouth from his.

“Wait,” she whispered, and lifted her hand to her mouth. When she was sure he was watching, she slowly, deliberately, used her teeth to pull each finger of her glove away from her hand. She held the index finger in her teeth as she pulled her arm out slowly. He flicked his eyes between her teeth and the rapidly increasing exposed skin of her arm and hand. It was one of the more erotic things a woman had ever done for him. When her fingers were free, she took the glove from her mouth and tossed it on the bed behind her. Then she reached with bare fingers and brushed her knuckles against the hair on his chest. Her smile at his shudder was radiant.

When her fingertips trailed a line down his sternum, he moved his hand to cover her sex. He knew she would be sensitive from her orgasm but he wasn’t sure how long he could wait to enter her, and he wanted to make sure she was ready. Well, as ready as she could be. He slid one finger into her slick heat as her touch brushed over his abdomen. _Jesus she’s tight._ He thrust his finger back and forth slowly, but had to pause when her hand hesitantly, then more firmly, grasped his cock. Her finger brushed against the tip and he groaned and thrust against her, but let her explore, as he added another finger to the one already inside her and started to move them a little more quickly, spreading and stretching. He needed to get her ready soon before he embarrassed himself all over her belly.

They were both moaning, now. Her hand was more confidently gripping him and stroking up and down his length. His fingers were slick and covered with her moisture, and they had a little more room to move. He added a third finger, and heard her suck her breath in through her teeth as her hand stilled on his cock.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, holding his hand still. She nodded and rocked her hips against him slowly.

“Mmmm, yeah, sugar,” she whispered. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Everything he had ever wanted was there in her gaze. He groaned and leaned down to kiss her, thrusting his fingers a little faster and stretching her out. She bucked against his hand and moaned into his mouth, as her hand clenched on his cock. He didn’t know how long he could survive like this. He removed his hand from her and settled himself between her legs. One of his hands grasped both of her wrists and held them above her head, while the other positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance.

“You sure, baby?” he said. He wasn’t sure he could stop, but if she wanted to, he needed to know. She groaned and rocked her hips, rubbing her slickness against the tip of his penis. Her eyes were wide open and looking deep into his. Time stopped.

“Yesssssss,” she hissed, never breaking eye contact. He pushed her hands down into the mattress and kissed her—hard, fierce, possessive—and drove into her at the same time. Her moan of surprise was swallowed by his mouth and his tongue as he slowly pulled out of her, and then slowly pushed back into her. She was so slick, so wet, so _tight._ It was heaven. He uttered his own moan into her mouth. He could feel her fists clenching and unclenching, silk and skin mingling under his palm. His hips thrust against her, slowly and evenly. The Wolverine was begging to pound into her, but Logan was savoring her moans and her tight heat too much to want to rush it. Time for that later.

“You ok?” he asked, lifting his mouth a hairsbreadth from hers. He released her hands to brush her hair out of her face, and she immediately moved them to his shoulders. Her palm was so soft his back couldn’t tell the difference between the silk-clad hand and the bare one. He thrust in a little harder, and they both shivered and gasped.

“Yeah,” she breathed, her eyes closed. He stayed pressed into her as she took a deep breath and released it. “Do that again.” Her lashes flew open and her deep brown eyes stared through his soul. _I will never, ever get enough of this girl._ He pulled out slowly, and pushed into her again. Not fast, but fast enough to make an impact. She grunted. So did he, when her muscles clenched around him.

“Baby?” he asked, kissing her neck. Her nails dug into his shoulder.

“Don’t. Stop.” Her hips echoed her words, pushing against him and grinding in a slow circle. He chuckled, but kept moving, because he didn’t want to stop, either. He held his weight on his elbows, running his fingers through her hair, gripping her head firmly but not too tight. She was not as gentle, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and tightening her hold until he thought she might pull it out. _It will grow back._ The feeling—not pain exactly—just heightened his enjoyment of her. When he sucked at the place where her neck joined her shoulder, she arched her breasts into his chest, and his hips picked up the pace.

Her breath was coming in short little gasps now. Her hands were clenching and unclenching again in his hair, and her pelvis was moving a little less rhythmically. He lifted his body away from her and got on his knees, lifting her bottom up with him and wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Logan…” she whined.

“I know, baby,” he said. “Trust me.” One of his arms wrapped around her buttocks, holding her in place as he gently moved back and forth. He thought he was a little longer than she was deep, and he didn’t want her get hurt. His other hand went to her pubic bone, and his thumb nestled into her curls, finding her clit and rubbing it in slow circles. He had to hold her as she arched her back off of the bed with a quiet cry.

“Logan!” The word was desperate. “Please…”

His eyes drank in the sight of her, her hair splayed across the pillows, her eyes closed and her breasts bobbing in time with her quick, shallow breaths. Her belly hollowed in and pushed out as she tried in vain to move against him, working on instinct rather than experience. She was beautiful, wild and innocent at the same time. _And all mine. All of her._ He felt her tighten around his cock, and his thumb moved faster.

“Come for me, baby. C’mon, Marie.” His voice was soft, and he didn’t know if it was his words or his hand that moved her over the edge, but her eyes snapped open and met his, and she squeaked out his name. Suddenly he was fighting to hold her in place, and her vagina was clenching and releasing around him. He moved faster within her as he felt her grow even slicker under his thumb, and he moved to grip her hips with both hands to hold her now. Her fingers encircled his wrists as she continued to come around him, and soon he lost his rhythm, and started moving his hips back and forth erratically.

“Marie!” he growled, and then he was pumping himself into her, claiming her from the inside, his mate in body as well as spirit. He pushed himself all the way into her, noticing her slight wince and not caring. He dropped her hips in favor of her head, and kissed her deep on the mouth. “Mine!” it came out as a snarl against her lips, and if he’d been in his right mind he’d have been terrified that he’d scare her. However, all she did was groan and push her sex up against him as hard as she could, taking in all of him.

“Yes, Logan, yours, yes, yes….” Her whispered moans filled his ears, but their sentiment filled his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Consequences. No good deed goes unpunished.
> 
> JUST KIDDING! Instead, the next chapter is Inertia: the world doesn't stop turning just because Logan and Marie are having amazing sex.


	9. Inertia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world doesn't slow for anyone, not even Rogue and Wolverine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all wanted Consequences, and they're coming...but not yet. I am publishing this on the same day I wrote it, which is probably stupid but w/e. Y'all deserve it.

He woke up before sunrise, instinct telling him there was something different, something he needed to do before the sun was up. His stretch brought him into contact with Marie, and her scent filled his nostrils. She smelled slightly different than she had before, with honeysuckle and maturity where there had been vanilla and innocence. He put his nose on her shoulder and inhaled deeply, loving the scent of her, before kissing her along her shoulder to her neck. She stirred beneath the arm he had wrapped around her waist, and made a little noise that made his cock twitch. _Morning wood is so much more fun with her in bed._ He figured she was sore, however, so he kept it to himself, instead just stroking her body gently with his hand and kissing her skin gently while she stirred. She turned in his arms and faced him, brushing hair out of her face and wiping the sleep out of her eyes. He propped himself up on one elbow, the other hand resting on her waist as she smiled shyly up at him.

“Mornin’,” she said, her eyes flickering between his eyes and his mouth.

“Mornin’, darlin’.” He replied, and bent to kiss her.

“No!” she cried softly, one hand darting up to cover her mouth. She moved as if to leave the bed. “Let me brush my teeth at least!”

He wrapped a leg around hers to hold her still, then took his hand off of her waist to pull hers away from her mouth. His other hand went to the back of her neck.

“No,” he said simply, and claimed her mouth with his.

She resisted him, pulling against his hands, and he deepened the kiss, holding her neck and her wrist firmly to keep her from getting away from him. He had waited long enough. Now that she was his, he wasn’t going to let even her stand in his way. Her resistance didn’t last long, however, and she melted into him. When the hand beneath his moved toward him, he released it and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her body against his. Pain bit into his shoulder as her nails dug into his skin, her other glove abandoned sometime during the night. He growled low in his throat and held her tight against him, rolling onto his back and taking her with him. Again she made one of those little sounds he loved, as he held her hips in both hands and slid his erection against her sex. She was wet, though from her own arousal or from his seed from the night before, he didn’t know. She groaned against his mouth and rocked her hips within his grip. He kissed along her jaw, down her shoulder, and back again. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, making little fists and letting go, pulling his hair and scratching his scalp in short little bursts.

“Please, Logan,” she murmured in his ear. He knew what she wanted. He was glad that she finally knew it, too. Still, he hesitated.

“Are you sore, baby?” he asked softly, nipping at her earlobe.

“Not nearly sore enough,” she crooned back, and took that moment to thrust herself against him, hard. He felt the tip of his cock rub against her entrance, but the angle was wrong, and she slid back down his shaft instead of taking him inside of her. He groaned and bit her neck, hard. She gasped but didn’t scream, she just rubbed herself against him harder. He lifted her hips, and she reached down and positioned his cock so she could slide down onto him. He could feel her womb rub against the head of his dick as she rocked her hips back and forth, grinding her clitoris into his pubic hair. She had learned a lot in a short time, it seemed. He wondered how much was the internet and how much was the old men in her head.

Her hands in his hair pulled his mouth off of her shoulder and she kissed him aggressively, stabbing her tongue into the back of his mouth and letting her teeth cut into his lips. _Doesn’t matter where she learned it, does it?_ He gripped her hips tightly, hard enough to leave bruises, and held her above him so he could thrust into her. Last night had been slow, tender, and gentle: Logan claiming her with love. This morning was the Wolverine, marking her with possessiveness. Marie didn’t seem to mind, though, because she bit him and bucked in his grasp, straining to find his rhythm and match it.

It didn’t take long. His hands were large enough that he could touch her clit with his thumb and keep his fingers on her hip bone, and he rubbed her in small circles as he continued to thrust into her. She pushed herself back down onto him in an even faster rhythm. The tag around her neck—his tag—slapped against his chin and dragged on his chest as they pounded against each other, almost frantic in their mating.

Her thighs gripped his hips tightly and she shuddered beneath his hands as he felt her vagina pulse around him. Teeth sunk into flesh: the Wolverine making his mark on his mate. Her blood was sweet on his tongue, and he poured his seed into her, holding her fast against him. She ground against his pubis and came a second time, crying out his name before collapsing on top of him, sweaty and spent. They lay there for a while, breathing heavily as the sweat dried off of their bodies. He traced shapes on her back as she lay atop him, her heartbeat striking a tattoo against his chest.

When her breathing had slowed, she slid up his body again, letting his now-soft member fall out of her with a small sound. He released her to swing her leg over his hips, lying aside him once more. Her breasts pushed against his side when she snuggled into him, and he squeezed her waist closer to him. The room was brighter now, but they stay silent, neither wanting to face the reality of the day. She spoke first.

“You need to pack.”

He sighed and gripped her tighter.

“I’m not going.”

She pushed against him. When he didn’t let her go, she punched him.

“Let me up!” He let her up. She immediately walked toward the bathroom in his suite. “I’m using your toilet, and then I’m going back to my room. YOU are going to Canada.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. Logan was having none of it.

“The hell I will!” he said, calling after her. The toilet flushed, and he rose from the bed to stand in the doorway of the bathroom. The white streak in her hair flashed at him from the mirror. “I can’t leave you, Marie. Not now, not after…” Her head snapped up.

“After what, Wolverine?” He started; she had never called him that to his face before. “After we made love? After we _fucked?_ ” The words made him angry, and he opened his mouth to protest. “No, Logan. You’re going.” She turned off the water and dried her hands on a towel as she turned to face him. “Sugar, you need this.” Her hand went to his chest, above his heart, and her body pressed against him. He wrapped his arms around her out of instinct more than anything else.

“How can you expect me to leave you when I just got you?” he said, searching her eyes. “I love you, Marie. You are more important to me than my past.”

“More important than saving other mutants from torture and experimentation?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she leaned her head on his chest and kept going. “Logan, I love you, and I will still be here when you get back. But you need to go, not for your past, but for everyone’s future.”

One of his hands moved up her back and rested on the back of her head, holding her to him closely.

“I might not even find anything, darlin’. I might not even find this kid.”

“Then you’ll be back to me faster. It’s almost spring—the cabin will be thawed out in about a month, and we can leave and go make our life. But today, now? You need to go.”

He sighed. She was right, of course. Staying wouldn’t help anything, but he still didn’t want to leave her.

“One week. I can’t stay away longer than that.”

“It will be enough,” she replied. She lifted her head, and he bent to kiss her. Their lips stayed closed, in a silent agreement that opening them would end up with a lot more than a kiss.  After a minute, he released her. They didn’t say any more words. She dressed silently while he watched, drinking in the sight of her, trying to commit her every curve to memory. When she was done, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck again. This kiss was a little more urgent, an attempt to memorize the scent and taste of each other, their hands working to retain the tactile memory of each other’s body. She broke away first, her emotional strength far greater than his despite her age.

He scanned her body from head to toe. Her hair was tangled and loose; her red scarf open at the neck, revealing his tag and the edge of the bite mark he had left on her shoulder. Wolverine smiled in satisfaction at that. Her breasts were firm around his tag, and her waist was still trim. A small line of skin showed between the edge of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans. He took a deep breath and smelled his scent all over her.

“Marie…” there were so many things he wanted to say, and he didn’t even know how to start. Sunlight streamed through the windows behind her. They were out of time.

“Take a shower, Logan,” she said. “You’re going to miss your flight.” With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

With reluctance, Logan quickly showered and dressed. He had been given a black leather “uniform” a few weeks ago, and he put it on now, taking the time to throw some essentials in a bag. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Hair gel. Comb. Socks. He was about to zip up the bag when he noticed the scrap of red silk under his pillow.

It was Marie’s glove, the one she had removed with her teeth the night before. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. There she was, fresh and sweet and innocent. He closed his eyes and paused for a second, then stuffed it in the bag and zipped it. One more survey of the room, and he left it again, locking the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Bring it to the Light. Some things that are hidden become un-hidden, some secrets become shared. 
> 
> I hope. I haven't written it yet. 
> 
> And later: Consequences. I promise.


	10. The Best-Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was meant to be a simple recruitment-and-reconnaissance mission has turned into something much more sinister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to @JaqofSpades for the excellent beta, you definitely made the chapter better.
> 
> So sorry that this took so long to publish! I'm the worst! And there isn't even any sex in it! I hope the story stands up for it.

“That boy over there is checking you out.”

Rogue felt the poke of a pencil eraser in her upper arm and looked at the girl who was holding it. “What?” she whispered back.

“That ice-boy keeps looking at you!” came the hushed whisper in return.

Rogue looked at Charles up at the front of the room. He was faced away from the class, writing something on the chalkboard about the Sentinel program in the 1970s. She then followed the line of Jubilee’s pencil to the young blond boy in the corner. He was, indeed, looking at her, and he gave her a smile. Rogue did not smile back.

“Bobby’s my friend,” she said quietly, “and I need to know this if I’m going to pass the test on Friday.” She didn’t actually give a shit about the test, but she wanted to stop talking to the girl. Both Jubilee and Bobby had taken The Wolverine’s absence as an opportunity to try and become friendlier with Rogue.

“You’re going to be single forever,” Jubilee huffed next to her, but was kept from saying anything else when the Professor turned to face the class again and announced the homework.

“Please write 250 to 500 words about the assassination attempt on President Nixon and what might have happened to mutant policy if it had succeeded.” The Professor gave his fatherly smile as he looked around the room. “I’d like them on my desk by Monday morning. Dismissed.” Rogue started gathering her things. “Rogue, stay for a moment, please.” She shot a glare at Jubilee as the other girl picked up her bag and shrugged at her, but dutifully waited until all the students had filed out the door.

“Is anything wrong, Professor?” Rogue hoped she sounded young and innocent. The Professor looked at her for a moment, and she felt the tickle of his mind on hers. “I’m sorry if I disrupted class,” she continued, pushing his probe away firmly and staring pointedly into his eyes. “I’ll make sure to work on that essay right away.” Still the Professor remained silent for a moment. She wondered if he resented not being able to read her mind. Finally, he spoke.

 “As I assume you know, Wolverine agreed to accompany the team on a recruitment mission.” Rogue just nodded. That had been a week ago; she hadn’t heard from him since, but she hadn’t expected to. “We are grateful that he chose to lend his assistance in this matter. However, I wanted to let you know that there’s been a….complication.” The tone of his voice remained even, but Marie knew there were volumes left unspoken in that pause. She was suddenly afraid.

“What kind of complication, Charles?” she asked. Her fear allowed for Erik’s accent to spill onto her lips, and she saw the Professor flinch almost imperceptibly. She had no sympathy, though. Not when her lover was in danger.

The professor went on as if the slip hadn’t happened. “The young man I was expecting to recruit didn’t exist. It was an ambush, and Wolverine was captured. The team is returning in about an hour…”

“Returning? Without him? How dare you!” Marie cut him off, hoping her angry words were hiding the terror in her heart. “He didn’t even want to go on that damn mission, but he said you told him…”

“As I was saying,” Now it was Xavier’s turn to interrupt, though his voice stayed calm and soothing. _How does he do that?_ “They are returning in order to more fully plan the rescue operation.” Marie crossed her arms in front of her breasts as she glared at him. Logan’s tag dug into her sternum beneath her scarf. It was warm and reassuring. _He’s going to be okay. He_ has _to be okay._

“I knew there was some activity underground from our previous reconnaissance, but I had underestimated the breadth of the operation. During the retreat, Dr. Grey was able to obtain more data about the facility and surrounding area. It looks like there is extensive mutant experimentation occurring, and while we don’t know the breadth of it, we need to carefully plan if we’re going to get everyone out safely. We’ll be having a meeting to discuss it as soon as everyone is able.”

“When you say, ‘everyone,’ do you mean…” Rogue began. Her face was still a mask of anger, but her voice was now composed and unfluctuating. _I guess I’ve learned more than I thought._

“I’d like you to come to the briefing,” said Xavier, moving back behind his desk to gather some papers. “Your—unique—relationship with Wolverine may help us in the mission planning.”

For a moment Marie was frozen. _Does he know?_ What exactly _does he know?_ Then she realized that Charles was referencing the fact that Marie had absorbed a great deal of Logan’s personality when he saved her life in the torch. _He doesn’t know._ With relief, she nodded.

“I’ll help any way I can,” She said, and followed him into the hall.

***

Marie looked around the conference table at all the adults, observing their behavior. It was a trait she had picked up from Erik; Logan was responsible for her knowing where all the exits were and exactly what in the room could be used as a weapon if needed.

Scott was angry and poorly controlling it. His scent was tinged with shame, though. Marie guessed he was angry at himself for not anticipating the ambush. His face was grim and determined, but his words were clipped and matter-of-fact, and he avoided using the Wolverine’s name.

Jean herself seemed calm and composed, though she was clearly uncomfortable at having Marie in the room. The Rogue stared her down, especially when she felt something bump against her thoughts. _Oh no, missy, you’re not getting in here._ She projected that last thought only slightly. Erik had also taught her how to deal with telepaths.

Storm was in action mode, her sharp analytical mind taking all the information presented and thinking about the myriad ways the plan could go wrong. Marie could see the mutant using the same mental techniques they had been using during their sessions, though instead of using them on the inside, she was focusing the techniques out to keep the room calm and the discussion moving forward. The Professor, meanwhile, was mostly watching. He caught her looking at him and gave her a little smile. She smiled back.

They took a break at Xavier’s suggestion, saying that perhaps some food and rest would help them come up with better solutions. It was a testament to how exhausted everyone was that they didn’t argue. Instead, they filed out slowly; all but Ororo. She came over to Marie and put a gloved hand on Marie’s sweater-covered shoulder.

“You look exhausted. Come share a meal with me?” Her eyes were kind. The young girl part of Marie was craving for a mother. She nodded and the two women walked down to the smaller kitchen together, instead of the large dining hall. ‘Ro immediately busied herself with starting some milk for cocoa, so Marie dug around in the fridge until she found a crock of soup. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she also hadn’t eaten since morning, and the sun had been down for hours. She and Ororo danced around each other in the kitchen as mugs were brought out and soup was put in the oven to warm. They sat across from each other at the kitchen’s small table, sipping cocoa while they waited for the stove timer to beep.

“Rogue, honey, how are you holding up?” The question was gentle, like the woman herself. Marie let some of her guard down.

“I’m just worried,” she said softly.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to rescue him,” said Ororo.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Marie said flatly. She was staring out the window at the snow. Storm just sipped her cocoa and waited. _God, I wish I could tell her everything._ Marie took a deep breath and then brought her gaze to meet the older woman’s. “Charles said that there is mutant experimentation being done. Lo….Wolverine has been experimented on before. He can’t be killed, or at least he hasn’t been by any of the methods that have been tried so far. However, he could lose more of his humanity.” It was more than she was sure Logan would want any of the team to know. Hell, it was more than Logan wanted _her_ to know. But she needed to share with someone. “I’m worried that when we get him back, he won’t be _him_.”

The two women just looked at each other for a moment, neither of them having the words to fill the space. Then the oven timer decided to fill the silence and beeped insistently, telling them that their soup was ready. A smile was exchanged before Marie went to get the necessary dishes and ‘Ro took the crock out of the oven and checked it. They worked in comfortable silence, until each was settled back at the table with a warm bowl of soup and a spoon.

“You know,” said Ororo in between spoonfuls, “I think no matter what happens, the Wolverine will be okay. It’s clear you two have a bond. He was miserable while you were in the hands of the Brotherhood, and you haven’t been a peach these last few days.” Marie started to protest, but the older woman held up a hand. “All I’m saying is that you make each other better. And however you do that, I think it’s good for both of you.”

Marie was anxious again, and gazed into Ororo’s eyes, trying to figure out what she knew. The weather witch was unfazed, however, and gave Marie a little wink before taking another sip of soup. _She knows._ Whatever Storm knew didn’t seem to be bothering her, so Rogue decided not to worry.

“Thanks, Storm.” Marie’s words were warm and honest. “That means a lot.”

“You almost seemed at peace before this mission,” Ororo said. “I want to see you—both of you—find that again.” She smiled at the younger woman. Marie smiled back, suddenly without the words to thank this woman for her support. Instead, they finished their meal in silent companionship. Ororo’s words calmed her, and she felt strong enough to face the rest of the briefing and the mission that would follow.


	11. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team works together to rescue the Wolverine and his fellow prisoners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean Grey Warning: present but not intrusive.

“Professor, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Scott said. He was not in favor of Marie coming on this mission.

 “Rogue has been training for months with Wolverine himself. Not only is she more than capable of handling herself, this intelligence indicates that you will need her on the team.” Xavier’s voice was calm and reassuring, as always.

“But, Professor, she’s a _child!_ If something, if anything were to happen to her…” Scott’s concern was endearing as much as it was patronizing. Marie reached her limit of tolerance, and reached out toward him from her space on the opposite wall.

“Close your eyes.” Her voice was no longer child-like, but commanding, with a hint of Erik’s German accent. “Don’t open them.” She felt the metal in the frame of Scott’s glasses and pulled at it with her mind. They floated off of his face, causing him and everyone else to hold their breath. The room watched as the eyepiece rotated, sending glints of red reflected light around the room. Marie surveyed the team, noting the reactions on everyone’s faces. Ororo looked impressed. Jean and Scott were terrified, but while Scott was clearly angry, Jean was also mildly indignant, probably because she’d not had any idea about this; Jean was a woman who liked to be in the know. There was a new mutant present too, his blue skin marred by scarified tattoos. He smiled, his sharp teeth gleaming white in the dim light of the room.

It was the professor that kept Rogue’s attention, though. Charles took a deep breath and clutched the arms of his chair, leaning back slightly. Rogue knew how uncomfortable he was, knew that Erik’s voice triggered feelings within him that, before Logan, she wouldn’t have understood.

“I can take care of myself. More importantly, I can take care of Wolverine, better than anyone else in this room.” She made eye contact with Jean as she floated the glasses back to the woman’s hands. Jean pressed against Marie’s mind, and Marie pressed back. _You’re not getting in here, missy._ When Jean’s eyes widened, Marie realized that she had probably projected that, and it made the corner of her mouth turn up in a very Logan-ish way. “I’m going.” Her voice was back to normal.

Dust motes floated in the light from the projector as the team looked at the newest member of the X-Men. Scott put his glasses back on and wrinkled his nose a little as he looked at her. Marie sniffed the air. He was annoyed, but resigned. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms, another physicality she got from Logan.

“So what’s the plan?”

***

On the plane, hours later, Rogue adjusted the collar of her new uniform, making the leather creak. Scott and Storm moved past her toward the cockpit. Cyclops kept his gaze forward and his lips in a tight line, ignoring her presence, but Ororo smiled at Marie and squeezed her shoulder as she went by. Jean sat across from her, the red-head’s eyes searching and finding nothing. Marie made sure to keep her guard up. Nobody had been able to read her mind yet, and she wanted to keep it that way.

She flexed her hands in her gloves and tilted her head back against the cool metal of the plane, closing her eyes for a moment. _I’m so tired._ She had never shared this with Logan, never shared it with anyone, but since the Statue of Liberty she had awoken from nightmares every morning but one: the one when she woke up in his arms. Since he’d been captured, the nightmares had been worse, filled with torture and pain and taunting voices. Every once in a while, they were different – starving children and the stench of burning flesh in the air. But either way, her sleep had been less than restful recently.

Marie worried about the state her mate would be in when they found him. How much animal and how much man? Embracing the feral within himself had helped him survive when they had poured molten metal on his bones, but it had also facilitated his torture. It’s easy to treat someone like an animal when they act like one. He had come back before by completely compartmentalizing his past. His memories of his captivity were fleeting and mostly confined to his subconscious, but she could access them with the part of him that was within her. She had never wanted him to go through that again, but here they were. Logan was in captivity and who knew what they’d had to do to him to keep him there. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

“We’re going to find him, Rogue.” Jean’s voice was calm, and soothing, her ‘doctor voice.’ Marie opened her eyes and looked sharply at the other woman. “I didn’t read your mind,” Jean said, her face inscrutable. “I just know….” she trailed off. “We’ll get him back.”

The two women stared at each other. _Did she take his flirting seriously?_ Marie searched the older woman’s face. Finally, she looked away.

“I know,” Rogue said, irritated at how young she sounded. Their conversation was interrupted by the plane taking off, and she shared a look with Jean as the turbulence shook both of them. _Here goes nothing._

When they landed, the team quickly dispatched according to plan. The human guards were strong, but lacked innovation, and were easily overpowered. The mutant guards were harder. There were at least a dozen of them, and they took three times the dose of tranquilizer that would normally be needed to subdue them.

The cell blocks had children in them – dirty, starving, and mutant. Jean and Scott took the lead in getting them out to the Blackbird, while Rogue and Storm searched for the security control room. Two floors down and some ass-kicking later, the friends stood in a dark room filled with screens, watching as two helicopters took off from a previously-unknown helipad. Rogue swore and kicked at a chair, causing it to fall over the body of one of the human guards, but Storm immediately went to the console and started maneuvering the controls.

“They’re getting away!” Rogue shouted. “We have to do something!”

“We _are_ doing something,” Storm stated in her firm but calm manner. She had found the camera controls, and was flipping through sources, the image on the screen above changing rapidly from empty room to empty room. “We’re finding who is left and getting them and us the hell out of here before the place blows up.”

“What?!” Rogue’s white hair had unmoored itself over the course of the day, and it now flared in a circle, giving her a halo as she whipped her head around. “What do you mean, before it blows up?”

“Well,” Ororo said, unfazed, “I’ve never met a bad guy who didn’t have a self-destruct on his base. I’m going to try to find and disable it. Why don’t you use this, here, to find the other prisoners?” The urgency in her voice belied her meaning. There was only one prisoner they knew they hadn’t found yet. Both women glanced at each other as his name hung silently in the air between them.

Marie was grateful to be given a task, and she took over the camera controls while Storm moved to a different console to start looking for the self-destruct mechanisms. As she flipped through the screens, she found another hallway filled with children. She reported its location over the comm to Scott and Jean, even as she found them on one of the cameras, Jean using telekinesis to float the unconscious ones, while Scott and Nightcrawler helped the ones who could walk.

“I will go,” said the blue mutant, and he puffed himself out of existence, only to puff into the screen of the other floor. Marie was impressed. _I didn’t know he could do that._ She looked at the keyboard in front of her, trying to think how she might be able to open the doors, but she was again surprised by Nightcrawler when he ripped the doors straight off their hinges using only his tail. He started taking the children, one by one, and puffing back to the Blackbird with them.

Satisfied that they were taken care of, Marie resumed her search for Logan, her concern growing. Room after room, hallway after hallway, she saw no sign of him. She felt like she was taking forever. The team’s chatter in her ear piece seemed far away.

“How are you doing, Storm?” Scott barked.

“I think I have this almost solved, Cyclops.” Storm’s fingers were flying over the controls. “This programmer was _not_ expecting us to take his base.” She sounded mildly incredulous. Marie wondered if anything would unsettle her.

Room. Hallway. Lab. Lab. Room. Hallway.

“THERE!” Marie shouted. Ororo jumped behind her, but Marie barely noticed. She was staring at her lover on the screen. He was strapped to a table, naked. The grainy resolution was hard to decipher, but she watched until she saw his chest rise and fall. “I’m going to get him!” She ran out of the room.

“Wait! Rogue!” Storm called after her. Marie was down the hall running as she heard her team talking in her ear. “Cyclops, Rogue just went to retrieve Wolverine. I’ve hit a wall with this self-destruct; I spoke too soon about the programmer. We have about five minutes. Will you be ready?”

“We’ll make it,” Scott said, clearly through his teeth. “But, Rogue, you’re going to have to haul ass if you want to be on the plane when we take off!”

Rogue was now jumping down a staircase, shoving her way through the door at the bottom with her shoulder.

“I’ll be there, Scooter, just keep the doors open,” she growled.

Ororo piped up before Scott could respond. “I’m uploading files to the Blackbird; anything we might be able to use to find these guys and take them down. I’ll be back at the bird in three minutes.” After that the comm went silent.

Marie was continuing her way through the hallways, feeling the clock ticking in her head. She was unsettled. Everything seemed familiar in a way she didn’t want to identify. She knew she had never been in this place before, nor had she been in any place like it. A growl started in the back of her throat when she reached a large door. She recognized this door. It had been in her nightmares.

She looked around the doorframe for the controls, but all she saw was an access pad that required a key card. “FUCK!” she shouted, banging her fist against the door. It reverberated, throwing her curse and her blow back at her. She glared at it and flipped on her comm. “Storm! I can’t get this door open. Can you help me?” Marie was surprised at how calm she sounded despite her distress.

“Rogue, honey, you have to hurry!”

“I know! Just…just open the door, please.” Marie leaned her face against the cool metal. “Please.”

“Rogue, I can’t find the door control. This place is going to go up in flames in two minutes! You have to get out of there!”

“Dammit, I’m not leaving without him!” Rogue punched her fist against the metal door again, making it ring. _Metal! I’m so fucking stupid!_ She laughed. “I’ll be there! Get it warmed up! Rogue out.” With that, she flipped her comm off again. She needed to focus.

Rogue had experimented with Erik’s powers before, as she had clearly demonstrated in the briefing room. However, everything she had worked on had been small: a pen, the glasses, Logan’s tag. This door was huge. She reached out with her mind and _felt_ it. It was at least six inches thick. She started to despair. This was way outside the scale she was comfortable with. Haughty German laughter sounded in her head, and it gave her strength. Erik had stolen her from Logan before, now she was going to use that power to save her lover. She put both hands on the door, sensed the vibration of the metal. It was strong, but she was stronger. And faintly, she sensed a different metal in the room beyond. _Adamantium_. She could smell his blood. Her resolve firmed, and she _pushed_ with her mind and her hands. The doors groaned as they pushed out of her way. She made fists and they crumpled. When she punched to the sides, they went flying against the walls, clanging as they bounced off the concrete and instruments. The power pulsed in her muscles as she strode toward her mate, strapped to the table. He was covered in blood. She waved her hand toward him and away, and his adamantium bonds flew off of him and joined the doors in the corner of the room.

“Logan,” she said as she reached his side. She shook him by the shoulder. She could hear his heartbeat, and sense the metal on his bones. She surveyed his body with her eyes. He was covered in _stitches_ , closing wounds that were still oozing. “What did they do to you, sugar?” _He shouldn’t be bleeding. His healing…_ “How did they do this to you?” Her anger revitalized her strength. Using Magneto’s power was exhausting. “Logan, I need you to wake up.” She shook him again. “Logan. Wolverine!!!” His eyes snapped open and his claws snicked out of his hands.

Her reflexes – both the ones he had taught her and the ones he had given to her with his life force – saved her this time. She jumped back and reached out again with Erik’s control of metal, staying Logan’s hand. She was weaker, though, and his claws just pierced the front of her uniform. _So much for bulletproof. Maybe as long as the bullets aren’t adamantium._ She noticed, then, the blood that was oozing around his knuckles where his claws exited. He was fighting her, she could feel it. She needed to get them out of there.

“Logan! It’s me, Marie!” She showed him her throat, unzipping her bodice to reveal his chain between her breasts. She captured his gaze and held it. “I need you to come back to me, now. We need to leave.”

He blinked at her. “M’rie?” he said. He sounded like he had forgotten how to talk. He smelled wild, like an animal, but his resistance decreased.

“Yes, Logan. I’m here with the X-men. This place is going to explode, and we really need to get out of here. Can you walk?” She broke their eye contact and searched around the room, finding nothing. _Animals don’t need clothes,_ said the German voice in her head. _I’m going to kill them all._ It was the first time she had heard a voice actually speaking in her head, and it threw her off balance, but she shook it off and returned her focus to Logan. _Better naked and alive than dead and clothed._ “Please, we need to go.”

He must have understood her, because he retracted his claws, leaving bleeding wounds in their wake.  She smiled, and turned her comm back on. “It’s Rogue. I have the Wolverine, and we’re on our way back to the Blackbird.”

“Rogue,” Storm’s voice was filled with relief. “I estimate you have about 90 seconds. Move it, girl!”

“He’s really weak,” Marie said. She had gotten Logan off the table, but he couldn’t hold up his own weight, and she was supporting him using Magneto’s power. “I think they gave him something that’s interfering with his healing. Any way you can buy us more time?”

“I did the best I could, honey, but I’m back at the plane now. Everyone’s here, we’re just waiting on you. Keep moving!”

“Roger that. We’re coming. Have a blanket ready. Rogue out.”

She turned back to her lover. “Alright, sugar, let’s move it.” She wrapped her arm around his back, her finger grazing the stitches on the skin. They were both tired. They made it through the ruined doorway into the hall when the first explosion shook the building.

“Rogue!” Storm’s voice was urgent over the comm.

“We’re coming, don’t leave!” Rogue had abandoned her boundaries to the personalities inside of her to help them leave faster. She now knew where she was going, and the journey out didn’t take as long as the journey in. As they reached the exit, another explosion rumbled through the concrete, causing them to stumble as debris rained from the ceiling. Magneto’s power kept the concrete with the rebar from hitting them, but dust and large chunks still struck them about the shoulders. Marie could see Jean at the entrance, holding a rough military blanket.

“Jean, we have to go!” Scott’s voice rang over the comm. He was still in the plane and couldn’t see how close Rogue and Logan were to them.

“They’re almost here! Just a moment!”

Marie felt Logan’s weight ease off of her, and realized that Jean was using her telekinesis to help hold him up. She realized how drained she was as she looked at the other woman in gratitude. As they stumbled out of the building, a third explosion rocked the ground, knocking snow out of the trees. There was no snow around the airplane; Ororo had kept her word and had the engines running. Jean ran to meet them and wrapped the blanket around Wolverine’s shoulders, now carrying most of the burden with her mind as she helped the three of them stagger into the ship. Rogue fell to her knees as the weight of Wolverine was taken completely away, and Jean helped him lay on the floor gently. It was Scott who grabbed Marie’s elbow and helped her move further into the ship, away from the closing ramp. She looked up at him in gratitude and saw him smile grimly in response.

“Go, Storm!” The jet lifted off before the ramp was completely closed, and through the gap the X-men could see a final explosion rock the building, sending spouts of flame into the air as it crumpled into a mass of concrete and dirt.

On the plane, scared children sat silently, buckled into seats that had been installed for the purpose. There were at least a dozen of them, and they looked haggard and sick. The mutants who had been guarding the compound were bound and unconscious, being watched over by Nightcrawler. Rogue ignored them all as she collapsed beside the body of her mate. She brushed his hair out of his face with her gloved hands, leaving trails in the blood that covered him.

Jean went into full doctor mode, examining the Wolverine’s wounds from head to toe. Scott brought her the med kit unbidden and she accepted it without acknowledgement, immediately using the supplies within to treat her patient.

Nightcrawler watched the scene, missing nothing. The Blackbird continued silently toward home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, everyone! I've been super busy and was also really unhappy with this chapter. Tip: when you're unhappy, print your work and type it back in. I was skeptical, but it really worked, and I'm much happier with the chapter now. 
> 
> With 90 bookmarks, I feel a lot of pressure to keep the story going. (ETA: it was pointed out to me that 'pressure' is the wrong word. it's more like I feel a ton of people cheering me on and I don't want to let you all down!) I have only the vaguest idea of where I'm going from here and no idea how it ends. I appreciate your encouragement (and comments!) as we discover the rest of the story together. 
> 
> I can't promise when the next chapter will come, but I can promise that it WILL come. I won't abandon the work, it just might sit unfinished for a year.


	12. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a chaotic rescue, the X-Men learn of a new threat to all of mutantkind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be remiss if I did not thank [@englishmajor226 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/englishmajor226/pseuds/englishmajor226) for her fabulous beta work, as well as helping me out while I write the rest of the story. 
> 
> Sorry for the extensive hiatus. I have been very, very busy for over a year, and only just got some dedicated time for writing. I have been working on this story during NaNoWriMo, and now have 9 more chapters in first draft, though they need some editing, and the story isn't done yet. It has been on my mind forever, and I appreciate people leaving kudos and comments in my absence, keeping me honest. After NaNo is over, I'll try to get the rest of it edited and updated before too much longer. 
> 
> Also Jean Grey Warning: POV. It was time.

Dr. Jean Elizabeth Grey-Summers, MD, PhD waited on the elevator, sipping her coffee. It had been three weeks since the rescue and most of her patients had been discharged already. The children had been treated for dehydration and minor injuries; in spite of how they were found, they hadn’t been badly mistreated. Most of them were now running around with the rest of the children. There were a few that were more reserved. Ororo and Kurt were working with them, while Kitty and Scott were trying to find where they were all from, and if it was safe to return them to their families.

The captured mutants had been found to be suffering from some kind of mind control. It had taken a few days for it to wear off, but they had all expressed extreme confusion and had allowed themselves to be treated. She and the professor had probed into their minds to ensure their truthfulness; they were now under Scott’s watchful eye and were being either trained to be new X-men or were being incorporated back into society under a kind of mutant protection program that Charles had set up.

Not everyone was up to changing the world. Some people just wanted to exist without persecution. Charles’ mission was to take care of both kinds, whether mutant or not.

She stepped off of the elevator and made her way toward the main lab. The rooms to either side, originally for storage, then converted to wards and cells, were now back to being used for storage and were quiet. Lights turned on as she walked, the night turning into day, despite being three stories underground. As she walked into the main treatment area, the lights stayed dim however. It was not yet 8am, and she followed strict light/dark protocols for her ICU patients, even when they were still unconscious.

Claire Temple walked up to meet her as she moved toward her patient. Claire’s eyes were bright despite the early hour; she thrived on the night shift. Jean sipped her coffee and was grateful, night float had been the worst part of residency for her.

“I had to turn up his Versed drip again,” Claire said as they looked over their patient together. “He got agitated around midnight, and his claws came out and re-opened the wounds on his knuckles. I got them bandaged again but only after he was sedated.” She rubbed her upper arm beneath her scrub top. “I didn’t call you because he settled so well.”

“Thank you, Claire. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have you here.” Jean moved to the monitor and started cycling through the vital signs that had been recording overnight. Sure enough, there were spikes in pulse and blood pressure around midnight, which settled within fifteen minutes. “It looks like you took good care of him.”

“I think he’s improving; he didn’t bleed as much as he used to. I wonder if his mutation is recovering.”

“That remains to be seen. We still don’t know why his mutation isn’t working to begin with.” Jean continued checking his lines and tubes, and took her stethoscope off of a hook to listen to his lungs.

“Dr. Grey,” Claire began from where she had remained at the foot of the bed.

“Jean. Please.” She opened Wolverine’s eyes and shone a light into them, checking his pupils. They were sluggish, but that was expected with all the Versed he had on board.

Claire smiled. “Jean. I hate to do this to you, but I’m going to have to go back to New York soon. I got a call from the hospital that they can’t keep holding my job, and while I appreciate the pay you guys give me, I have people who depend on me back in The City.”

Jean was initially startled by the request, but then she nodded. Claire had come up on a day’s notice when they had brought all the people back from the compound. “I understand. I shouldn’t have made you stay this long. I appreciate you helping me out. Hank – Dr. McCoy – is here now and he and I should be able to work out a schedule for Wolverine. Thank you so much for all of your help.”

“I’m so sorry, Dr. – Jean. I wish I could stay.”

“Nonsense, Claire. You have to do what is right for you. Thank you so much for all you’ve done to help us. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated. You can leave today after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“Thank you, Jean. Please let me know if you need any more help.”

Jean leaned forward and hugged the younger woman. “Likewise, I’m always here for you if you need me. You have my number.” They smiled at each other, then parted. “Now, go get some sleep.”

“I wrote some notes along with my charting.”

“Claire, your charting is above reproach. Now go!” Jean made a shooing motion toward Claire, and Claire smiled and gathered her coat and purse.

“And I want updates! Send me emails!”

“Will do,” Jean said with a smile, as she examined Wolverine’s feet for edema. He wasn’t on the ventilator anymore, but he still was getting tube feeds. She didn’t worry about his skin breaking down despite his skeleton, since the bed was state-of the art, and Claire had probably done excellent skin care overnight. She would check her documentation later.

Satisfied with her exam, she retrieved her coffee from the desk that Claire had been working on and moved through the room into her office to write her note. Hank McCoy was sitting at her desk.

“Hello, Hank!” she said brightly. “You’re up early today!”

“Yes, well, I knew my PCR was going to be done, and I wanted to get the Northern Blot started before too much longer.”

“You sound excited, did you discover something?”

“I think so! You see, I noticed a high incidence of double-stranded RNA in some of the tissue samples we took from Wolverine, and I believe I’ve isolated it. The Blot is cooking right now, but I should have some answers soon.”

“What’s your theory?”

“I’m not sure, but I suspect that our friend is the victim of a small interfering RNA virus that is suppressing his X-gene. This makes sense in the context of some of the information we’ve gotten in the download from the compound, since it looks like they were working on a cure for X-gene mutations.” Hanging in the air between his words was the realization that a cure like this could easily be weaponized.

“Is it reversible?”

“It should be, as long as it’s not integrated into his genome. If it has, it’s much more complicated. We should know more when we finish decrypting the rest of the data.” Despite the subject matter, Hank’s voice betrayed his excitement at facing the puzzle before him.

“Let’s assume it hasn’t, what do we have to do?” Jean leaned her hip against the desk and sipped her coffee, looking over the information that Hank had displayed on the screen. 

“Well, it depends on the viral vector, but honestly some antivirals should work. It may even run out on its own.” He clicked in a couple of windows, showing her some of the information he had discovered already.

“Claire did say before she left that she thought he was healing a little faster. I looked at his wounds, and I think I might be able to take out some of the stitches today.”

“In that case, we may be able to speed recovery along,” Hank said excitedly, immediately clicking over to the pharmacy database to see what they had in stock.

“What about long-term? Can we make a vaccine?” she asked. Jean wasn’t as comfortable with wet research like this. Her Ph.D. was in epidemiology, specifically that of mutation. The complex biochemistry that went into stuff like vaccines was beyond her.

“If I can isolate the vector, then we might be able to, but it will take a while.”

Beeping from the monitor in the next room interrupted their conversation, and Jean turned toward her patient.

“Go, I’ll let you know when we have the results.” Hank turned back to the screen on Jean’s computer, already chasing some of the theories they had just discussed. Jean sighed and brought her coffee with her back to the other work desk.

When she got back to the bed, her patient had gotten a visitor.

“Hello, Rogue,” she said, moving around the girl to check the monitor. Wolverine’s blood pressure and pulse had dropped below parameters, causing the monitor to alarm. She canceled the alarm and adjusted the drip rate on the Versed infusion.

“Hi, Jean,” Rogue said with an air of distraction. She was holding Wolverine’s hand in between two of her gloved ones, and She had been there every day for the last three weeks, despite being encouraged to attend classes. Rogue insisted that she was 19, but Jean was highly suspicious of that claim. When she had brought it up with Charles, he had told her to let it go, but still Jean was bothered by the girl being down there all the time. They had arrived together, but both of them admitted that they had only met right before they encountered the X-Men that first day in the woods. Jean hadn’t been able to penetrate into their minds to confirm their story, and if Charles had, he was keeping it to himself.

Sometimes Jean hated how weak her telepathy skill was. Every once in a while, she felt like there was power there, just beyond her reach, but whenever she tried to use it, it slipped away from her like a ghost.

Regardless, she used Rogue’s distraction as an excuse to look over the girl. She justified it as being part of her function as the medical director of the school, but part of her knew she was lying to herself. Rogue had lost weight since the raid, and her skin was getting even paler than it had been. Her hair was limp and looked like it needed a good wash. After confirming that Wolverine’s vital signs were normalizing on the slower Versed drip, she sat down on the bed at Wolverine’s feet and faced Rogue.

“Rogue, honey, how is your diet?” She tried to infuse a tone of sisterly concern, but she probably missed the mark. Rogue just sighed deeply. She glanced at Jean’s thigh against the sheet of the bed, but didn’t look at her face, instead keeping her gaze focused on Wolverine. Jean caught the movement of a gloved thumb rubbing the bandage between Wolverine’s knuckles.

“I eat,” Rogue said succinctly. “Not as much recently, my stomach hasn’t been the same since the rescue.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” Rogue said, leaning back in her chair without releasing Wolverine’s hand. “I think tapping into all that power did something, but I haven’t really wanted to eat a lot of food since we got back. Nothing really looks good.”

“Have you vomited?”

Rogue shook her head. “Not yet, but I don’t eat very much when I do eat.”

“You look thinner, and you were pretty trim to begin with. I want to make sure you’re getting enough nutrition.” Jean hoped she didn’t sound naggy. Scott teased her about that sometimes, saying she could nag the wool off a sheep. While his teasing always made her smile, she did worry that being considered a nag could interfere with her ability to build relationship with patients.

“I’m fine, I’m just worried about him,” Rogue replied. She sat up again and brushed an invisible piece of lint off of Wolverine’s chest.

“Well, he’s doing much better. Dr. McCoy says we might be close to figuring out what’s wrong with him soon.” Jean winced internally when what she meant to be encouraging came out kind of flat. It had been a long three weeks.

“When can we wake him up?” Rogue’s voice shook, betraying her otherwise calm demeanor.

Jean thought about how his sedation needs had slowly been escalating. “I don’t know. Soon, I hope; it’s not good for anyone to be sedated for this long. However, every time we’ve lightened his sedation he’s hurt himself, so we want to wait until we’re sure his healing factor is back significantly more than it is currently before we do so.”

Rogue didn’t answer for a while. Jean watched her as she rubbed Wolverine’s hand between her own, careful to not dislodge the IVs or bandages. She waited for the younger woman to say something else, but Rogue seemed to think the conversation was over. Jean sighed and pushed up off of the bed, deciding to go do her charting.

“At least let me ask someone to bring you a meal, if you’re determined to stay down here.” It came out more harassed than she meant for it to sound. Rogue blinked and looked up at Jean, her expression inscrutable.

“That would be nice, thank you.” It sounded genuine. For a moment the two women looked at each other, at an impasse in a disagreement that had no real substance. Again Jean was frustrated that she couldn’t read the girl’s mind. However, she nodded at the other woman and moved to sit at the desk.

“Tonight when you leave I want you to shower.” Rogue glared at her, but Jean avoided making eye contact. “If you bring in germs that infect my patient, I will ban you from the ward. You have to be clean and healthy to visit, which means taking care of yourself.”

“Fine.” The word came out as practically a grunt. The next several minutes were quiet, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Jean’s mouse and keyboard as she typed her note. Even though she was a hospital of two, she still kept meticulous records, though she was grateful she didn’t need to write notes tailored for billing. She was so concentrated on her work that it startled her slightly when Rogue spoke again.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Jean looked up. The scene was mostly the same, and Rogue wasn’t looking at her. “For what?” she asked.

“For taking good care of him,” Rogue said as she brushed a lock of hair out of Wolverine’s face. “He’s all I have.”

Jean wondered again what was going on between the two of them. They weren’t father-daughter, or brother-sister, if they both insisted they had just met. They had mostly kept to each other since they had arrived at the mansion six months ago. Jean herself was concerned that more was going on and was concerned that the feral man was abusing the younger woman, practically a girl, but Charles had dismissed her concerns. Jean sighed and returned to her work, leaving the mystery for another day.

“You’re welcome.”

The room descended into silence once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The medical information is as accurate as it can be considering the subject matter. siRNA is a real thing, and could possibly act like this, though who really knows. If you're a real scientist and you know better than me, feel free to correct me.


	13. Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan's trapped in his own personal Hell, and Marie has no idea how to help him out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I owe [@englishmajor226](http://archiveofourown.org/users/englishmajor226/pseuds/englishmajor226) a load of thanks for helping me edit this chapter. It, like the rest of the chapters I have in the queue, needed a lot of work, and her contributions have been immeasurably helpful.
> 
> And, of course, I owe all of you thanks for your continued kudos and comments that keep reminding me to come back and actually update this thing. Your support is so kind, and it lifts up my day.

Logan was trapped.

He knew he was dreaming, but unlike his normal dreams, where he would sometimes wake up, this time he was unable to force himself awake in any way. Instead, his dreams flitted from nightmare to nightmare.

In the most familiar one he’s submerged in a pool of liquid. Needles inject liquid fire onto his bones. He can see a balcony above him, blurry through the liquid, where shadowy figures in military uniforms congratulate each other and clink champagne glasses together. Meanwhile, he thrashes in his bonds, breathing in the fluid that surrounds him as his skeleton becomes weighted with the metal that will later define him. The pain enrages the animal within him, and his healing factor, activated by the surgery, increases his strength. When the needles withdraw, he breaks from his bonds and sits up, lungs crying out for air as he lunges forward, slashing at anything that is in his way.

The dream changes, and he is happy, his Japanese wife at his side, his two sons swimming in the pond behind them, playing with the lotus blossoms. He leans down to kiss his wife, only to have her freeze in his arms as pain suffuses his torso. He realizes that he’s skewered to her with a sword, a samurai appearing behind her, dark eyes staring into his with defiance. The sword is sharply removed from both of them, hot blood flowing out of the wound in its wake, and he stands paralyzed in shock as his wife’s body falls lifeless and bloodied at his feet. A splashing sound causes him to turn his head toward his sons, only to see their heads bounce into the water at the feet of two other warriors. He collapses to his knees in grief, weighted with the realization that this is his fault. Because the sword that now drips in front of his eyes is familiar to him, and the hand on his shoulder is connected to a man reassuring him that without distractions, he will be a better soldier, a more effective weapon. His claws come out, bone ripping through skin, and he kills the man and all of the soldiers present, then cradles the body of his wife before the dream changes again.

All hospitals smell the same, and he only has time between to register that he is being experimented on again. He is filled with rage, straining against the drugs, but they are too strong for him. Then he smells his mate, before the drug takes him down again, back into the dreams.

He is strapped to a table, the sharp sting of a knife cutting into his thigh, through skin and muscle down to bone. He feels a needle pierce his shoulder where a similar wound is being sewn up. A bearded man leans over him, brown eyes that are almost familiar taking his measure, before snapping some orders to the woman behind his head, and the scene fades.

He storms the beaches of France, his brother at his side, watching Nazis drop like flies from the bullets of his gun. When he runs out of ammo, he kills with his claws, which go unnoticed in the chaos of battle.

He cradles a disfigured boy in Nagasaki as people die all around him. His skin fries, his hair melts, but he will not die. He is not deserving of death.

He walks up behind his father, filled with rage, his mother’s body lying on the ground, bloody and beaten. He feels a beast rise within him and take over. Bone claws rip through his skin as his fists connect with his father’s back, tearing into muscle and organs. He withdraws, spinning the man around in front of him, and again drives his claws into neck and belly, hot blood spurting out over him, a legacy of violence.  The man falls, still alive, and Logan leaves him. He turns and walks away without looking back.

He feels a soft hand covered in silk touching his forehead. A voice he recognizes speaks soothing words to him that he cannot decipher. A lightness surrounds him, holding him above his feelings of shame, giving him respite from hell, before dropping him back into it again.

He is kissing an Indian woman, draped in a Saree, around their wedding altar. She is happy, and her family is cheering around them. A blink, and her dead eyes are staring at him, her blood all over him and pooling in the bed beneath them.

He holds hands with a Scottish woman with bright copper hair, and they both place their hands on the swell of her belly, smiling shyly. A blink, and she floats in the river, her abdomen protruding obscenely out of the water. She’s not a witch, but it doesn’t matter now.

He’s at war. He kills men over and over, with claws and knives and guns. Sometimes he kills women, too. The guilt hangs over him like a leaden cloak.

He dies. He’s hung. He drowns. He’s shot. He’s eviscerated. Every time, over and over, he awakens in pain, unworthy of death.

He sees Marie, the only woman whose name he remembers. She looms over him, naked and beautiful, the sun streaming through her hair. She bursts through doors to rescue him, throwing metal around like Magneto, carrying him with an invisible force. She looks at him with shock as her blood wells around his claws, and he feels his life force pouring into her. She’s dead in Magneto’s machine, and he was too late to save her.

Over and over he sees himself, in different times, with different people. Feudal Japan. Pre-revolutionary Scotland. Ancient Rome. Civil War America. WWII Britain. Over and over, every memory punctuated by death.

Everyone he loves is killed. And it’s always his fault.

~*~*~*~*~

Marie sat at Logan’s bedside, full of worry as she watched her lover struggle with dreams and calm again. Over the last three weeks she had sat next to him every day, prioritizing him over everything else in her life. Jean had nagged her about her studies, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate anyway, and Scott had convinced her that she might as well be in the medbay, since she was useless and irritable in the classroom. Her gloved hands held Logan’s tightly, and she rubbed the back of his hand with both thumbs, trying desperately to impart comfort. Jean and Claire had both been cautious about whether or not Logan could be aware of her presence, considering all the drugs they were giving him. However, he did seem to be calmer when she was there, so she did whatever she could to support him.  

 _{He’ll recover from this,}_ Logan’s voice said softly in her head. _{He’s always been a fighter.}_

 _“I wish I could be sure of that,”_ Marie silently replied. _“His healing factor has never failed him before.”_

 _{He_ will _heal. He always does.}_

 _~Giving the girl false reassurances will only make the truth harder to bear.~_   Erik’s voice was no less condescending for being a shadow in her mind. Marie hated when the voices in her head talked to each other. Usually she was able to keep them separate, but lately her mental barriers had been weaker than normal. She’d been sleeping like shit ever since the rescue, and she suspected that the bone-tired weariness, combined with her anxiety over her boyfriend, was what was interfering with her normal self-control.  She concentrated for a moment, shoving both personalities back where they belonged.

Her boyfriend back in Mississippi hadn’t left his personality behind when she had absorbed him during their kiss. She’d had his memories, his feelings, but they hadn’t lingered, disappearing shortly after she touched Logan in that hotel room in Canada. However, both Logan and Erik were strong and separate personalities with their own voices in her mind. _I wonder if it’s because they’re mutant._ She made a mental note to discuss it with the Professor when this was all over. _Maybe I’ll bring it up next time I see him, just to give him something to think about._ All of the X-Men had been giving her side-eye over the time she spent at Logan’s bedside. Giving them something else to chew on couldn’t be a bad idea.

She wanted to believe her mind-Logan and his reassurances, but his wounds were still healing very slowly, and kept re-opening when his sedation was light enough that he was thrashing. Not for the first time, she wished her mutation worked in reverse, and she was able to push Logan’s gift back into him.

A wave of nausea washed over her, and she pushed a hand against her belly, swallowing the saliva that threatened to turn into vomit. She hadn’t been lying to Jean when she said that she hadn’t been the same since the rescue. Her lack of sleep and anxiety left her exhausted and nauseated. Sure, she’d been eating less, and maybe even lost some weight, but she still thought she was heavier than she’d been when they first got in the mansion. _Logan first. Then I’ll worry about eating better._   She felt a low growl in the back of her mind but ignored it.

Despite her nausea, or perhaps because of it, she’d been drinking water and sweet tea like it was her job. She was always thirsty, and had taken to carrying around a water bottle with her, refilling it frequently. This led to her using the toilet more often, too, as she was reminded when she again felt that familiar urge. She hated leaving Logan’s side, but she knew that soon the urge would become uncomfortable, so she pushed her chair back and went to stand up.

Suddenly, she was overcome with dizziness. This didn’t surprise her; it had been happening in the last few weeks as well, usually when she stood up too fast. She held onto the bed and waited as the room spun and her head felt like it was being held up by a balloon, until the sensation faded and she felt steadier on her feet. However, when she turned to leave, the dizziness suddenly came on again, much stronger. The last thing she saw was the floor rising to meet her as her world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter: Discovery. Hopefully it will be up next week.


	14. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue has fainted, and the cause will change everything for her and Logan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [@englishmajor226](http://archiveofourown.org/users/englishmajor226/pseuds/englishmajor226) for her magnificent beta work on this chapter. I literally made her read it three times, and each time I got excellent feedback that made it better. I'm regretting not having her three years ago when I first started writing this story. 
> 
> Thanks also to all of you patient readers, for your kudos and your comments, which keep me honest. Don't stop nagging me!
> 
> Jean Grey Warning: She's gonna play a big role in the next couple of chapters, but then she'll go away I promise.

Jean was in the groove. Dozens of new antivirals had been introduced since she had last needed to use one, and she thrilled in the acquisition of new knowledge as she read about each one and took notes on their uses. She was so focused on her work that she barely registered when Rogue got up from her chair; but her reverie was broken when she heard a soft moan and the distinct thud of a body hitting the floor.

“Rogue?” she asked, standing up.

Rogue lay crumpled on the floor, her dark hair with its signature white streak fanned out around her face.

“Oh my god! Hank!” she called into the next room. “Hank, I need you!”

Hank joined her as Jean started her survey: the girl was breathing, she had a pulse - visible on her neck where the carotid artery came close to the skin. Jean was suddenly alarmed by Rogue’s thin stature; her collarbones were prominent and the sharp angle of her jaw protruded through her hair, features that had been obscured before by Rogue’s understandable habit of dressing to cover up.

Hank handed her a pair of gloves and her stethoscope, and she hastily protected herself before continuing her exam. She checked Rogue’s pupils (equal and reactive), listened to her lungs (clear) and her heart (bounding, with a faint flow murmur, but otherwise normal), and examined her mucus membranes (dry). She lifted the girl’s shirt to check for injury, and noted that she was able to count her ribs beneath the skin. Jean internally scolded herself for missing this level of malnutrition despite her heavy workload. The welfare of all the residents of the school was her responsibility, and Jean felt she should have noticed the different way Rogue’s clothes had hung on her body.

“Can you help me get her up into that stretcher?” Jean asked Hank, reassured that moving her patient wouldn’t harm her. “She’s gonna need some fluids, I think.”

The Beast easily lifted Rogue’s slight form in his arms, avoiding her skin, and placed her gently on the stretcher that Jean had indicated. Jean retrieved some smelling salts from the first aid kit on the wall, and when Rogue was settled she opened the packet and waved it under the girl’s nose. Rogue twitched, opened her eyes and looked right at Jean. Jean smiled back at her.

“Hey,” she said softly, relieved to see her patient conscious. “How are you feeling?” She asked.

Rogue stared at her blankly, blinked a couple of times, and then promptly threw up all over herself before passing back out.

Jean knew that the idea of cleaning and changing the clothes of a girl with deadly skin sounded like a daunting task to anyone who hadn’t worked in a hospital before. The truth, however, was that skin-to-skin contact is very easy to avoid, and doing so is ingrained into hospital culture. The very acts of holding a hand with your bare hand, or doing a physical exam of intact skin without wearing gloves, are considered radical and risky when most patients have some kind of germ hanging around them that one Does Not Want to bring to the next patient.

Having trained in hospitals, Hank and Jean therefore had no difficulties in protecting themselves from Rogue while they cared for her. They both wore the blue non-latex gloves that were standard in the industry, and Hank used a warm water and cloth to clean the vomit from around Rogue’s mouth and neck while Jean fetched a hospital gown and some blankets from the warmer. Jean pulled the curtain around them and skillfully removed the soiled shirt and sweatpants from Rogue’s body, replacing them with a simple hospital gown. Rogue herself faded in and out of consciousness, just enough to help but not enough to really converse. As she worked, she heard Wolverine’s monitor beep behind her, but before she could respond it corrected itself.

Hank was ready with IV supplies when Jean pulled the curtain back, and she was not surprised to note that he had gotten the Dextrose solution without her having to ask. By the time she had placed the IV and started the fluids, it had only been ten minutes since she had noted Rogue’s fall. Jean stripped off her gloves and went to the sink to wash her hands.

“Thank you so much for your help, Hank,” she said as she dried her hands on a paper towel. “I couldn’t have done that without you.”

“Ahh, it’s no trouble,” Hank rumbled. “Though I confess it’s been some time since I’ve done bedside care. It’s remarkable to see you in action, Dr. Grey. You are quite the skilled physician.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind getting more practice in bedside care,” replied Jean ruefully. “Claire has to go back to the city, and I can’t watch Wolverine 24/7. It would be a great help if you could stay for a while and help me care for him until we can finally treat whatever is keeping his mutation suppressed.”

As she spoke, she retrieved lab supplies and prepped Rogue’s other arm for a lab draw. The girl opened her eyes and made a noise when the needle went in, but otherwise showed no sign that she was bothered by what was happening to her. Jean drew five vials of blood, then removed the tourniquet and the needle and placed a pressure bandage over the wound.

“I’ll admit,” she continued, “it’s been nice having someone else who speaks my language. Other than Claire, nobody else understands medicine quite the way you do.”

If Hank’s skin had not been blue, Jean was sure he would have blushed.

“I suppose I can stay for a while. I’d love to get to the bottom of this virus.” His tone betrayed his excitement at the science.

“Great. To start off, can you help me run these labs?” she asked him. “The machine has color coded slots, you just put the tubes in and pick the tests you need. The results will pop up in my chart when they’re done.”

“Certainly,” he responded, taking the vials of blood from her. “Which labs would you like?”

“If you go through the screens, there’s a button for “standard labs” which will give me all the basics. Then if you can add on an albumin and a pre-albumin, I’d appreciate it. I’m worried about Rogue’s nutritional status,” she said. The image of Rogue’s protruding ribs was haunting her memory.

“Do you suspect an eating disorder?” Hank asked with a grandfatherly concern.

“I’m not certain,” Jean replied, deep in thought. “She was thin when she arrived, but she gained weight quickly and I suspect her issue before coming here was simply lack of access. However, since the rescue she seems to have lost all that she had previously gained. This morning she told me that she’s felt funny since then, but I don’t really know what to make of that.”

“Her history and presentation are certainly not consistent with a short-term GI bug, which would be my first thought in a boarding school like this one.” He spoke from experience, having been the doctor at the school before Jean finished residency.

“Well, we’ll see how she responds to fluids, and what her labs show. For now, she can protect her airway, so I’ll let her rest while I wait for her labs.”

“Well then, I’d better get these started,” Hank said, “Then I’ll get back to my gels.”

“Before you go, I’ve been reviewing some antivirals, do you think I should start one?” Jean asked. She adjusted the drip on Rogue’s IV, then went over to Wolverine and tapped on his monitor, curious about the alarm she had heard while caring for Rogue.

“I think a trial of acyclovir wouldn’t be amiss,” he replied, moving to the lab. “I want to send a sample to my friend at NYU to run through his electron microscope.”

“You could ask Claire to bring it with her when she returns to The City, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” Jean replied distractedly. She noted there had been a spike in Wolverine’s vitals during the excitement with Rogue, but that it had self-corrected within moments. Jean determined that it was probably due to the noise and the stimulus, and decided not to worry too much unless it happened again. She double checked her drips and then moved toward her desk. Suddenly she had a thought. “Do you think we need to test Rogue for this virus?”

Hank paused in the doorway to the lab, clearly thinking. “I don’t think so. It’s much more likely that she is simply dehydrated from whatever vomiting illness she obviously has. If she does not recover, we can test her, but for now, let’s just rehydrate her.”

Jean smiled and sat down, opening Rogue’s chart to start her note. “Thank you, Hank. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You’re very welcome, Dr. Grey.”

~*~*~*~

Marie woke up slowly, her head slightly foggy. She blinked and took note of her surroundings, realizing that she was still in the medbay, and probably in a stretcher. She remembered being dizzy and falling, and vaguely recalled Dr. McCoy and Jean looking over her, but other than that, it was hazy, like a fever dream. She looked around to see if she could see Logan, and came face to face with Jean’s lab coat.

“Welcome back,” Jean said, in her condescending way that was probably meant to be friendly, but just missed the mark. “You gave us quite the scare,” she continued. Marie noted that she was taking down an empty IV bag and holding a full one under her arm.

“What happened?” Marie asked. Her tongue felt like cotton in her mouth. She lifted her arm to run a hand through her hair and noticed that the other end of the IV was located in her elbow, and became alarmed as she realized that she was wearing a hospital gown which left her arms and hands bare. “Where are my clothes?” she asked, her tone a bit more panicked that before. She tried to sit up, but Jean put a hand on her shoulder and gently stopped her. Marie glanced over and was relieved to see that the doctor was wearing gloves. She didn’t feel zen enough to control her skin at the moment, and as much as telekinesis and telepathy would be cool, she really didn’t want Jean’s personality floating around in her head.

“Relax,” Jean said unnecessarily. “You vomited right after we got you into the bed, so we cleaned you up a bit. Nobody touched your skin. You’re safe,” she said, and the comforting tone sounded genuine this time. She hung the full bag of fluid onto the pole, and fiddled with the tubing. Marie felt cool fluid enter her veins and shivered.

“What happened, though?” Marie asked. Wolverine growled softly in the back of her mind, clearly uncomfortable with being in such a helpless position, but Marie pushed him away again. She glanced behind Jean and saw Logan in the same condition as before; the beeping of the monitor and the slow rise and fall of his chest were the only signs that she was still alive. Not for the first time, she worried that he wouldn’t recover, and felt a stab of anxiety in her heart before refocusing her thoughts to the situation at hand. “I remember being very dizzy, but not much else,” she confessed.

“You collapsed,” Jean informed her in clipped syllables. “And you were disoriented and vomiting, but you seemed to perk up with some fluid. I think you fell from a combination of exhaustion, dehydration, and low blood sugar. You’ve been sleeping for two hours.”

Marie closed her eyes and put her head back on the pillow. _Two hours._ She chided herself for letting this happen. In the meantime, she heard Jean pull up a rolling chair and sit down next to her.

“Rogue,” Jean said softly, again with that not-quite-motherly tone. “Is there anything you want to share with me?”

Marie was instantly wary again. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve lost some weight. When I changed your clothes it became very clear that you haven’t been eating enough. You are dangerously thin, Rogue.”

“I told you,” Marie said carefully. “I haven’t felt well since the mission.”

“Rogue, you wouldn’t be the first teenage girl who avoided food because she thought she was too fat. Are you anxious because you gained weight since you got here?” Jean’s eyes were intent, and Marie suddenly realized what the doctor was asking her.

“Oh my god, Jean, I’m not _starving myself_!” she exclaimed.  “I eat when I can, but I’ve always lost my appetite when I’m anxious, ever since I was really young.” She went to run both her hands through her hair now, and noticed the bandage on her other elbow. “Did you draw blood from me?”

Jean sat back, her face hard. “You fainted, Rogue. I drew some labs to make sure I was treating you appropriately. Now focus, please. You have lost too much weight for anything healthy to be going on. The rescue was three weeks ago; I doubt that’s still affecting you.”

“Oh, and you’re the expert on the effects of borrowed powers now?” Marie snapped. She glared at Jean, and noticed something dangerous flash in the other woman’s eyes. She softened her tone. “Dr. Grey,” she said, hoping her genuine gratitude showed through her words. “I promise you I am not anorexic. I do think I’ve been forgetting to eat, though. I’m so worried about Wolverine….” She trailed off, her gaze settling on the slow rise and fall of Logan’s chest, trying to reassure herself.

Jean watched her for a few moments, clearly dissatisfied with Marie’s responses, but she eventually decided she wasn’t going to get any more information, and stood up, pulling her chair back to her desk with her.

“I’d like you to finish that bag of fluid,” Jean said, her doctor face firmly in place, “then I’m going to have Scott take you upstairs to get some clothes and some food. If nothing else, you have to have a milkshake. I know there are some in the kitchen. I’ll make sure Scott shows you where they are.”

Marie relaxed back into the pillow. She had to admit to herself that she did feel better with the fluids and the rest. All this worry was exhausting.

“Thank you, Jean,” she said, and meant it.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jean replied, rubbing hand sanitizer into her skin as she sat down behind her computer again. “If you puke again, I’m banning you from the medbay, so you had better eat something and keep it down and prove to me you don’t have a stomach virus.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Marie said, her southern accent strong.

“After you eat, if you’ve kept it down, you can come back and sit with him,” Jean said, mollified but clearly still concerned. “You need to take care of yourself or you won’t be any good for him,” she said.

Marie didn’t respond, instead closing her eyes. Soon she heard the clicking of Jean’s fingers on the keyboard, and she looked over at Logan. He was still the same. His chest rose and fell, the monitor beeped, but there was no twitching, no fidgeting. Nothing else to indicate that he was still alive. Her stomach roiled again, and she fought the urge back down.

_When is he going to wake up?_

~*~*~*~

Jean watched her husband walk with Rogue toward the elevator. She knew she could trust Scott to make sure the girl actually ate something before coming back down. She still wasn’t convinced that Rogue didn’t have an eating disorder, but she couldn’t do anything about it now. She turned back to her other patient, and double checked his lines, then went back to her desk to see if the labs had resulted yet, pleased to find that they had.

As she scrolled through the results, she didn’t see anything that she wasn’t expecting. Rogue was anemic, but didn’t show signs of infection. Her chemistry showed signs of dehydration and mild malnutrition, but nothing that would be concerning for a chronic eating disorder. Slightly reassured, she was about to return to her note when she noticed the last result, bright red with an exclamation point next to it to indicate a critical value.

“Pregnant?” The question echoed in the room. She had forgotten that the pregnancy test was part of the basic lab order set, and realized that Hank must have chosen the “female” option. Jean wouldn’t have even run the test, thinking it impossible with the girl’s mutation, but the value was so high it couldn’t possibly be false.

_How? Who?_ With a feeling of dread she looked over at the man in her hospital bed, and started mentally reframing every interaction she had seen between him and Rogue. Gestures that had previously seemed fatherly now took on a more sinister tone, and Rogue’s presence at Wolverine’s bedside was less sweet and more problematic. Clearly Rogue had fallen into the same trap that other abused girls had found themselves in, and had feelings for her abuser. _I don’t even know their real names!_ She kicked herself for how much she had missed, cursing herself for stupidity.

She felt exquisitely unprepared to deal with this. Based on her physical and this test, the pregnancy was clearly still in the early stages, which at least gave them some options. An ultrasound would show more clearly whether she could use medication for an abortion or would need to call a specialist to do a surgical one. She had no idea how to tell Rogue, and was especially lost when it came to addressing the abuse. The kids at the mansion often had abusive pasts, but their abuser had never been in the mansion with them. Further complicating this was how complicit she had been—they all had been, really—with supporting this relationship, and now Wolverine’s future was uncertain. For once she was grateful that she had no idea what his recovery would look like; it gave her some breathing room to figure out her next steps. _When Scott gets back, we’re going to go tell the Professor. He’ll help me figure out what to do._ She stared at her screen helplessly, while the result glared red back at her, mocking her failure to prevent it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Next up: those Consequences you've all been waiting for.


End file.
